


Life's Greatest Treasure - Book II

by JuweWright



Series: Life's Greatest Treasure [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, F/M, Gen, Hogwarts Era, Ravenclaw Draco, Ravenclaw Fred, Ravenclaw Hermione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5529254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuweWright/pseuds/JuweWright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because of a glitch of the Sorting Hat, Draco Malfoy has ended up in Ravenclaw. Throughout the first year of school he befriended Muggle Born witch Hermione Granger and Fred Weasley. Torn between his loyalty to his father and his friends, he has to find his own way in a world caught between historic ideas and ideals and a very different future.</p><p>This is the second part of my re-writing of HP. The first book was finished in November 2015. In a perfect world you'd read that story first. I have been toying with the idea of sorting Hermione, Fred and Draco into Ravenclaw for a while before I started this and I was really happy to see how many people appreciated the first story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Malfoy Manor

**Author's Note:**

>   
>   
>   
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING  
> * eating disorders  
> * self-harm

**Life’s Greatest Treasure – Book II – Chapter 1: Malfoy Manor**

 

Malfoy Manor had never been a comfortable place. The dark, narrow corridors and the high-ceilinged halls with the stone floors had been erected to spread the word about their inhabitants’ wealth as well as intimidate anyone who dared to cross the doorway. There had been an air of history about it ever since Draco could remember - a reminder of former grandeur: Back in the days, the pure blooded aristocracy had been extremely powerful in the Wizarding World. They had ruled said world, had been the Lords of the land. But times had changed and now there was a proper government, a ministry in which low-born wizards and even some Muggle Born witches and wizards had a say. The society had shifted from an old fashioned aristocracy towards a democracy. Thus, nobility had lost some of its influence. Not all, mind. They knew how to rule from the shadows, how to pull the strings in the darkness. But if you were used to quite a huge amount of privileges and quite a lot of respect, even a small cut back on these privileges and a little loss of that respect could feel like a heavy blow. The Malfoys were still one of the most influential families in Britain. But nowadays the huge collection of forbidden books on the shelves in their library and the multitude of dark objects in the glass cabinets in the upper living room were not something they could boast about in public any more. Also, the pleasure Lucius Malfoy felt when abusing Muggles or Muggle Borns could hardly be satisfied any more.

Draco had never realized how cold the Manor was. When he had come back for the summer, this had been the first thing he had noticed. Even in the darkest winter months, the Ravenclaw Common Room of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was never cold. The House Elves kept the fires going all the time, but that was not the problem. The Malfoy Manor House Elves were trained to do an excellent job and never let a fire go out either. But still, Draco had noticed that it always seemed colder in here than it should have been in the middle of August. As if the dark stone walls absorbed any heat. Just as Dementors absorbed happiness. He had been at home for several weeks and while he still slept with two blankets, he had become used to his old environment again. It was therefore unusual that he awoke in the middle of the night because something felt odd.

He could not really put his finger on it. Neither was it colder than usual – the fire in the open fireplace at the opposite wall was still burning merrily and had obviously been refuelled not ten minutes earlier – nor was there anything amiss in his room. The moon shone through the windows, the pale silver light reflected on the dark marble. Everything seemed eerily quiet, silent, and asleep. Then, he heard it: Voices almost muffled to a whisper by the thick walls of the Manor. He could not understand a single word but had no issues whatsoever to make out his father’s voice among those conversing. He also noticed the deep drawl of Theodore Nott Senior and the tenor of Charles Goyle. He listened and tried to concentrate on the different voices. There must be at least ten people in the study, the small room next to the library that his father preferred to welcome guests in.

What was going on? Why had these men come to Malfoy Manor in the middle of the night? Also: Why were they all here at once? Draco had grown up around all of his Slytherin friends’ parents. But unless it was Narcissa Malfoy née Black organizing a Ball for charity, there had hardly ever been more than two of them in the house at once. It was, Draco had found out, a means not to draw too much attention to their doings. The Ministry had a watchful eye on Lucius and the other former Death Eaters and they did not like to see them gathered together in one spot for any longer than an hour or two. So the late – or early – hour of this particular meeting was probably due to the fact that the men wanted to avoid being noticed when entering and leaving the Manor. There was a charm on the house that kept people from apparating directly in Narcissa’s living room ever since a very drunk Richard Crabbe had landed right on the new carpet after a game of Quidditch and vomited all over it. The mere memory of his mother’s face as she was trying to keep her composure while on the verge of exploding made Draco chuckle.

The voices rose slightly. Draco could not help it. He was curious. There were so many things his father never talked to him about. He wanted to know what was going on. As quietly as possible, he slid out of his bed and tiptoed down the corridor towards the study. In the hallway, the voices could be distinguished more easily and he congratulated himself on his hearing abilities. None of his guesses as to the people attending this strange nightly conference had been wrong. On top of them there was also Mrs Parkinson and – a sober-sounding – Richard Crabbe.

“Are you sure it can be done?” Mr Nott asked.

He was probably sitting in the huge armchair at the window smoking a cigar. Narcissa hated his cigars but she had given up on trying to teach him not to smoke in her house.

“I am pretty sure it can be done. It was done before. I told you I have the very device in my hand to achieve our aims,” Draco’s father explained in his usual cold, calm manner.

“And yet you refrain from telling us what exactly you are talking about,” Mrs Parkinson noted.

“Because there are things that are not meant to be publicly discussed,” Lucius’ voice sounded like a yawn. “I just want to know whether we all agree that we need to do something and that opening the chamber might be just what we need.”

“The last time, a girl died,” Mr Nott said.

“Since when, my dear Theodore, do you care about people dying? I saw you cast the killing curse more than once. I saw you strangle a man with your bare hands. I heard about the bloody feasts you celebrate behind closed doors. I don’t know whether you actually killed any of the girls involved but I might speak for everyone in this room if I doubt that you of all people have any scruples whatsoever to see a life perish for the greater good.”

Draco shuddered slightly. Once, only once, had he witnessed one of these “bloody feasts”. He had been a mere child back then and he and Theo had woken up at night because a woman was screaming at the top of her lungs. Theo had told him he had heard similar cries before but had never investigated their source as he was too afraid to do so on his own. They had been ten years old. Draco had suffered from nightmares for almost two years afterwards and Narcissa had decided that if the friendship between him and Theo was supposed to prosper it could well do so in Malfoy Manor and not in Nott Castle. Theo had spent pretty much every summer at the Malfoy’s home. The only exception was the third week of the holidays when the annual gathering of the Nott family took place. Theo had left only two days ago with the look of someone who was going to his own funeral. Theodore Nott senior being here right now indicated that this nightly meeting was of utmost importance.

“I am going to ignore the fact that you just used Grindelwald’s catchphrase for your own means, Lucius. But you are right. I don’t care about lesser lives. The question is: Will our own children be safe? Will they be safe from the Basilisk? The last time I checked my books, there was nothing in them about that beast only going after Mudbloods.”

Pansy’s mum sounded concerned. Draco gulped. Mudblood was the term that the old pure-blood families used for Muggle Born Witches and Wizards, for people like Hermione, his best friend. She had been bold enough to walk into a compartment full of Slytherins on her first day of school. At first, it had been a bit of a game they played, when they did not immediately start to teach her about her proper place. But after the Sorting Hat had glitched and sorted Draco Malfoy, whom everyone had expected to become a Slytherin in less than the bat of an eyelash, into Ravenclaw, Hermione had been there to support him. Their unlikely friendship had spread and Hermione was now accepted by all of Draco’s Slytherin friends as well. If they used the term “Malfoy’s Mudblood” it almost sounded like a pet name. The way Mrs Parkinson spat it out turned it back into what it really was: An insult of the highest possible order.

“Your lack of faith in the heir’s power over the beast is pitiful,” said Lucius Malfoy. “I promise you that there will be no incidents on our side. The heir of Slytherin will not let his own be hurt and I will instruct Draco as to what precautions he’s supposed to take.”

“Go ahead then,” Richard Crabbe murmured. “But if there are any collaterals, they will be on your hands, Lucius.”

Draco could almost see the smile on his father’s lips. It was the famous Malfoy sneer, a smile that was more of a snarl that never reached the eyes and told anyone that they were facing a predator and that they did well not to look as if they were prey.

“Anything that might rid us of Harry Potter forever is welcome to me,” Theodore Nott added. “And I believe you if you say that our children aren’t in danger.”

Draco ran back down the corridor and only managed to dart into his room right before the door of the study opened. Panting, he leaned against the wall. His head was spinning. A Basilisk! In Hogwarts! Something about the heir of Slytherin... who was that anyway? And about a chamber... the Chamber of Secrets... whatever that was. He tried to steady his breathing and think. Harry Potter. They were after Harry Potter. Draco was not particularly fond of Harry, but ever since he had seen him in front of the mirror Erised that only showed his dead parents to the boy, he had felt a pang of pity for him. Harry was no hero. He had been pushed into that role by circumstances beyond his grasp and he did his best to fulfil the expectations – after all, he had managed to defeat Voldemort or what was left of him again at the end of last term – but underneath all that, he was only a boy who was just as scared as anyone else and probably more damaged than most of them.

Draco’s head was spinning. He needed to warn Potter. Better even, keep him from going to Hogwarts. Keep him away from mortal danger. Draco knew enough about Basilisks to get the dimensions of what might happen if one of these beasts was set loose in the castle. His gaze fell on the fire place and noticed the tiny creature kneeling in front of it, kindling the flames.

“Dobby,” he murmured, a plan forming in his mind.

The House Elf jumped up with a squeak.

“Sorry, Sir, I did not want to disturb you, Sir.”

Draco shook his head. Narcissa ruled her household with a firm grip, so most of the elves tried to keep a low profile. It was Lucius though, whom they feared most. And Draco had only witnessed a nasty episode between Dobby and his father a few hours earlier in the living room. It had involved tea of the wrong blend which was not hot enough, did not contain enough milk and way too much sugar for Lucius’ liking. Dobby’s ears still looked a bit singed at the tips from where his father had shot sparks at him.

“Just be quiet, Dobby. I need your help. You need to deliver a message for me. I need to you to warn Harry Potter and tell him not to go back to Hogwarts this autumn.”

The elf stared at him, mouth open.

“Can you do this, Dobby?”

Dobby still stared at him with his huge eyes as if he had suggested to him to buy a fluffy pink unicorn for his mother’s birthday.

“Harry Potter, Sir?”

Draco nodded.

“You need to go to Harry Potter and warn him that something bad is going to happen at Hogwarts and he should not go back there. If he doesn’t want to stay at home, do something to make him. I was told his aunt and uncle aren’t particularly fond of magic. There’s also the law about underage wizards not being allowed to use magic in the holidays. Perhaps you can use that to your advantage. Got it?”

Dobby nodded and bowed, his thin, long nose hitting the floor for a second.

“Warn Harry Potter, Sir. Tell him not to go to Hogwarts. Tell him to stay at home. Make him stay at home if necessary.”

“Very well, Dobby,” Draco said with a dismissive gesture. The elf vanished with a small puff.

Draco sighed. Now, that was a start. Now he’d only have to keep Hermione safe – and possibly also her very favourite Weasle-friend and his twin. Although his love for the Weasley family in general was none-existent to negative, he did not mind the twins. They had a sort of evil intelligence that was delightful. He’d try to warn both Hermione and Fred. There had to be a way to keep them safe. There just had to be.

 


	2. Diagon Alley

 

**Life’s Greatest Treasure – Book II – Chapter 2: Diagon Alley**

 

“What is it about Brooms? I just don’t get it!”

Hermione and Mrs. Weasley were waiting in the street while the rest of the Weasley family plus Harry Potter crowded in front of the display case of “Broomstix” admiring the new Nimbus model.

“It’s supposed to be even faster than the Nimbus2000,” they heard Ron say.

“Yeah I read a review in The Daily Prophet and they said it responded to weight changes in less than ten milliseconds. I don’t like their new look though. The black varnish is not my thing.”

That was Fred, who had been drooling over Quidditch magazines all summer long. He dreamed of a “decent broom” but all his family could afford was his older brother Bill's old Cleansweep Seven, which had seen better days.

"Someday,” he kept telling Hermione. “Someday, I’ll be rich enough to afford any broom I want.”

She believed him. If Fred wanted something, he’d usually get there somehow.

Hermione Granger, Muggle born witch sorted into Ravenclaw House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had spent the last two weeks of the summer break at the comfy but chaotic house the Weasleys called their home. The Burrow was neither beautiful nor magnificent but it had a homely feeling to it and Hermione loved the cluttered messy house. She was an only child and the constant buzz in a household shared by so many individuals – Arthur and Molly Weasley had no less than seven children, five of which were still living at home with the other two visiting every couple of weeks – was exciting for her.

Ginny, the only girl and the youngest, would be starting school at Hogwarts this summer. Ronald, as well as his best friend the ever-so-famous Harry Potter, were in Hermione’s year but belonged to Gryffindor House.

The only other Ravenclaw student – and the only Weasley in history ever to end up in Ravenclaw – was Fred. He was a year older than the brown haired girl but the two of them had developed quite a strong friendship over the last term. A friendship that, perhaps, was only surpassed by Hermione’s friendship with Draco Malfoy.

Draco’s family was one of the old wizarding families, which more or less came down to them being nobility while the Weasleys were working class. It also meant that Draco’s father had peculiar ideas about blood status and which of the four houses of Hogwarts was best. He’d been incredibly disappointed when his only son had been sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin and he had not talked to Draco for most of the year. Hermione had seen the effect it had on her friend. Draco was so eager to please his father, he’d been left in a difficult spot when – at the end of the school year – they had become aware of someone trying to steal the Philosopher’s stone in Lord Voldemort’s name.

The Malfoys had belonged to a group called the “Death Eaters,” allies to the dark wizard who had once ruled with a powerful and cruel hand. Lord Voldemort had not thought much of people like Hermione. In his eyes, only pure-blood wizards and witches deserved to be a part of the community. He’d despised Muggles just as most of nobility did, fearing the intrusion of “inferior” blood into their ranks. It was a miracle that Hermione and Draco had almost instantly become friends. And it wasn’t only Draco. Hermione had been welcomed with open arms into his all-Slytherin circle of friends and while Vincent had sent her chocolate frogs over the holidays – knowing that her dentist parents would not be amused – Pansy had owled her a constant supply of books that had never been intended to be read by twelve year old girls and had taught Hermione a lot about the Wizarding Society – and about other stuff that made her blush when she thought about it.

Molly Weasley watched her family with the expression she only allowed herself, when she thought nobody was watching. In front of Hermione, she seemed to think it was all right to let her guards down this much and so the young witch had seen how fond and proud the older woman was of her offspring quite a lot. Molly had been less than happy when she had found out about her chidren's reckless rescue of Harry Potter.

The boy had been locked into his room – more of a prison really, the window had bars on it – after an unfortunate incident that involved underage magic. Harry claimed he had nothing to do with the huge cake that had landed on top of his uncle's boss but Hermione did not know what to believe. From everything she had heard, the Dursleys deserved a bit of a scare. It was surprising enough that Harry seemed to be more or less stable having lived through an abusive childhood deprived of true familial affection.

It had been the twins' idea of course. After Ron had shown them the letters that Harry had sent informing them that getting out of Privet Drive to spend some time at The Burrow had become slightly more problematic since a weird little creature – a house elf from all they could gather – had shown up and caused a mess that had led to him being grounded, George's eyes had started to gleam.

“How about we use the car to get him?“ he had suggested.

Hermione had not understood a word while his brothers had started to grin madly. It turned out Mr. Weasley had altered a Muggle car, a Vauxhall, so that the thing could fly and became invisible with the press of a button. Should his little invention ever become public, he'd probably lose his job and a lot of money as tempering with Muggle artifacts was illegal. The fact that Arthur Weasley worked in the department that took care of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts was a bit of a paradox.

The boys had finished their conversation about the new broom and it was mutually decided to go to Flourish and Blott's next to get the school books that were on the list for the upcoming year. Only half an hour after the owls had brought their yearly letters, Hermione had received an owl from Pansy. The Slytherin girl had clearly been in a hurry as the ink blots and scrawled letters usually weren't quite her style, but she seemed to be really excited about Defence Against the Dark Arts – respectively the books they had been asked to buy for it and which had all been written by one Gilderoy Lockhart. Mrs. Weasley had become equally squeamish when she had seen the name and had run off to show Hermione a copy of “Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests.“ Hermione had leafed through it. The magic was less spectacular than she had expected and the writing style was painfully dissipated but she decided she'd give the other books a chance.

The street in front of the book shop was quite crowded. Of course, Diagon Alley was never empty, especially not when the new term was drawing near, but the huge throng of people blocking the street was something else than the usual bustling.

“What's going on in there?“ Fred asked and jumped up and down to catch a glimpse.

“Oh damned.“ Ron muttered and pointed at a poster that was hanging right next to the door.

 

_GILDEROY LOCKHART_

_will be signing copies of his autobiography_

_MAGICAL ME_

_today_ _12.30 – 4.30 pm*_

  
“Someone get mum away from here quick!“ Fred suggested.

But Molly had already seen the sign and showed very clear signs of teenage idolization which involved asking Ginny how her hair looked and checking her skirt for stains.

“The only thing that could have been worse than him would have been Celestina Warbeck giving a spontaneous concert in front of Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour,“ Ron sighed.

They made their way past the queue that led to the back of the shop and started looking for the books on their list. Arthur Weasley agreed to get his wife a copy of Magical Me so she could get it signed. He looked positively beaten.

Hermione had seen a picture of Lockhart in Molly's book and decided he looked a bit too arrogant for her taste. Now that he was sitting at a desk only a few paces away, smiling widely, she decided he was even worse in real life. A guy with a huge camera pushed past them, yelling something about having to get the perfect shot for the Daily Prophet and she turned around with an exasperated sigh when she caught a glimpse of a familiar face only two bookshelves away. Without thinking for a single second, she made her way down there, a huge grin on her face.

“Hey Draco,“ she said. Her arms were open to give him a hug but she stopped dead in her stride when she saw his face. Lucius Malfoy was standing next to his son. He was tall, lean and well-dressed. His robes weren't fashionable but classy. His hand with the long narrow fingers rested on the knob of a black cane and his white hair hung loosely down to his shoulders – a look that would have either looked ridiculous or scruffy on anyone with a less authoritative air.

Lucius Malfoy's expression was curious as he took in the whole picture of the bushy haired girl in front of him. Draco's face was motionless. His voice did not betray any emotions as he explained:

“Father, this is Hermione Granger. She is a student in my year.“

She tried to fix his eyes with her own to get him to say more than that but Draco looked away and suddenly seemed really interested in “Magical Herbs in Hertfordshire.“

“Miss Granger,“ Lucius Malfoy repeated.

It came out as a hiss. He was a snake and she was a mouse who had missed the moment to run off and escape through the next hole in the ground.

“Draco has told me all about you. As has Severus Snape. You are the Mudblood girl who is surprisingly good at Potions. Are you sure none of your ancestors were magical?“

She shook her head.

“Shame.“

He did not take off his glove as he shook her hand, an insult in itself. Hermione felt as if she had just been covered in dirt. Why didn't Draco do anything? Why didn't he say anything?

“Hermione, you've got to have a look at this, it's hilarious! ‘What could possibly go wrong – 100 magical experiments that should have been done with more preparation, supervision or not at all. These guys are so daft, it's brilliant.‘“

Fred rounded the corner of the bookshelf with a huge leather bound volume in his hands and stopped when he realized whom she was talking to.

“Ah, Draco. Mr Malfoy. My pleasure,“ he said.

It did not sound like pleasure. It sounded as if someone had offered him stale bread and forced him to take a bite.

“Red hair, freckles, hand-me-down clothes. Could it be a Weasley by any chance?“ came Lucius' prompt reply.

Before any of them could answer his question, Arthur, George, Ron, Harry and Ginny had also shown up.

“Oh, by Merlin,“ the aristocratic wizard exclaimed. “Arthur, are all of these yours? You've really been busy, haven't you? You could be such an enrichment for the Wizarding Society if you'd just teach your children the proper ways and didn't disgrace us with your Muggle-fascination. I just witnessed your offspring being friendly with this Mudblood here, so I guess my advice is too late anyways, but...“

He did not get to finish the sentence because Fred had jumped at him without a warning and was trying his best to strangle the white haired man.

“Never. Call. My. Best. Friend. By. That. Name. Again.“ he growled.

Lucius tried to reach for his cane which had slipped from his hand at the assault. Draco stared. Hermione was frozen on the spot for a second, then her brain started working again. Fred was trying to murder an adult. An influential adult at that. If he succeeded or even caused any real physical harm in the attempt, he'd be sent to Azkaban or worse. And all of that over a verbal insult.

“Stop it!“ she screamed.

Nothing happened. Her eyes found Mr Weasley's, found George's, finally focussed on Harry.

The dark haired boy understood immediately. They rushed in to separate the fighters. Harry got a nasty blow to the nose and started bleeding, Hermione only got a few punches that would leave bruises. Finally they had succeeded. Fred stood panting. Lucius did not pant, but only straightened his waistcoat.

“You definitely failed to teach your children manners, Arthur,“ he said.

Hermione had been convinced the situation could not get any worse, but the next thing that happened taught her otherwise. The fight had drawn some attention and Lockhart – interested in what drew the eyes of the adoring public away from him – had spotted them. Now he came over with a swagger and a wide smile.

“I can't believe my eyes,“ he exclaimed, pulling Harry who was still trying to stop his nosebleed, to his side posing for the camera man. “It is Harry Potter! Who would have thought that this memorable moment would happen today?“

While the wizard launched into a long speech about coincidences – during which he also explained that he'd be their new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher which did not sound or feel right – Lucius Malfoy and Arthur stared at each other with contempt that bordered on hatred. Finally, Malfoy made his leave after picking up Ginny's used transfiguration book out of the girl's cauldron and a scathing remark about the Weasley's limited pecuniary means. Draco followed in his shadow. He had not even found the guts to look into Hermione's eyes again.

She felt suddenly cold. During the whole summer she'd been looking forward to spending time with Draco again. She loved Fred dearly, but Draco was as important as the red head to her. His behaviour was painful, because it showed the huge gap between them in bright light. She'd almost forgotten about that gap because all of the Slytherin pupils had been nice to her, because Draco had been a friend throughout the whole of their last term. She'd forgotten that there were parents behind these children in general and Draco in particular who did not fancy their offspring to get involved with Muggle borns, who saw Muggle borns as inferior, as scum, as dirt.

“I've got an idea,“ Fred said next to her, taking her hand and smiling. “Let's go to Zonko's and buy some nasty stuff to put in ickle Malfoy's pudding. And afterwards I will treat you to the Magical Menagerie. Nothing better than petting something with fur to make you feel better.“

 

_***) Sentences and paragraphs marked with an asterisk are direct quotes from J.K. Rowling's work.** _

__

_A./N. As always, thanks to everyone who has decided this story is worth reading, liking and following. It's an immense pleasure to write it and I hope you have as much fun reading it._

_@KenjoCatze: I can't even tell you how happy you made me by telling me this is one of your faves. I mean... yay. Someone likes my stuff enough to call it a fave. That's so awesome!_

_@Cat: Glad I made your Christmas morning even nicer than it should already have been. Draco/Hermione is the first HP pairing that really rang a bell with me. I like how they don't fit and fit at the same time. Fred/Hermione is much more harmonious but it still works for me. There are a few other pairings that I really like and at least two of them will show up or be hinted at somewhere in this fic._

_@Lexitania: Yay. Glad to see you again. I can't take the credit for the Dobby idea. Someone else had it before me and it jumped at me somewhere on facebook. I just took it and altered it so it fit into this story._

_@Liz: Again: Massive thanks for the beta work!_

_@dandanbunny: Great to see you again as well! Well, I am not fond of Lucius. Anyone who was insecure about that probably knows it after this chapter. I just can't stand snobbish stuck-up arrogant people and that's pretty much what that man is in my eyes. I might go a different way with him at some point but up to now this is him... As to updating: I would love to do weekly updates again. I almost managed to stick to that for the first Book. Anything more than that is absolutely impossible in the current state of chaos. I can't promise there won't be a two-week wait once in a while but I will try to manage posting a chapter each week._

_@ORgasmic Pigeon: Thank you so much! I am glad you enjoy it._

 


	3. Society

** Life’s Greatest Treasure – Book II – Chapter 3: Society **

Fred had been right. Looking at all the funny, nonsensical stuff at Zonko's definitely helped to forget about Draco for a bit. But mostly, it was Fred himself, who was a great distraction. His eyes gleamed as he took in some of the newest inventions in the joke shop. 

“This is a great idea,” he said, looking at a quill that became wobblier and wobblier the worse your spelling was until it finally had the consistency of rubber and you couldn't write with it any more. “It's sad though that it only works once. Would be much more fun if it regenerated a couple of times to really annoy people.”  


He was really serious about this. His own little inventions had become more and more impressive over the last term although he still had not mastered the art of the massive Bertie Bott's Bean without the thing bursting in the end, covering its surroundings in liquorice. He and George would one day own a shop just like Zonko's. Their plan had developed over the holidays. They had only shared it with Hermione and Ginny up to now, but it was definitely a plan. Hermione couldn't help but admire the meticulous planning they had already put into this. 

“We could run it with just our O.W.L.s, I guess,” George had announced, leaning back on one of the garden chairs after de-gnoming the hedges for about an hour. “But mum would be so furious I might just go get a few N.E.W.T.s as well.”

Hermione had never heard the expressions before so Ginny had explained that there were two major tests during the education at Hogwarts that determined which career you could pursue afterwards. 

“The O.W.L.s in fifth grade are the Ordinary Wizarding Levels. They count as a qualification for a lot of positions. They also determine which subjects you are allowed to study for your N.E.W.Ts in seventh grade”, she had said.

“So what does N.E.W.T. mean?“ Hermione asked.

“Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test. They don't even mask the fact that these exams are hell,” Fred had chimed in with a wide smile. “That's why I am not keen on them. But mum is keen on telling everyone that her boys did well in school, so I will have to compromise.“

“What do you think about going to the Magical Menagerie? I told mum and dad we would meet them in an hour. We still have plenty of time,” Fred said when they finally left the joke shop. 

He did not have to suggest this twice. The pet shop was one of Hermione's favourite places in Diagon Alley ever since her first visit here. 

“I'd love to buy a kitten someday,” she said as the two of them stood in the tiny crammed shop looking at a bunch of kittens that were playing in a huge cardboard box. 

Fred nodded and shrugged. Neither him nor George had a pet. Hermione had never asked why, guessing there might be something more to it than just the Weasley's lack of money. Percy had an owl, after all. And Ron had a rat. She did not know whether Bill and Charlie had owned any animal companion while they were in school but in Charlie's case she could hardly imagine him without one. 

“So...“

She never found out what he was about to say as in exactly this moment, Draco strolled into the shop. The boy glanced over his shoulder as if to make sure nobody was following him, then stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed who was already in the Magical Menagerie.

“Hermione,“ he said, his voice hardly more than a whisper. 

 

~*~*~*~

 

Lucius had had to go into Knockturn Alley to get something he had ordered. Draco assumed it was another cursed necklace for the collection in the salon at Malfoy Manor. But as the vendor was someone who did not belong to the Malfoy's usual acquaintances, his father had been reluctant to take him along. So he had done his share, pretended to be very eager to go and finally let Lucius march off under protest. If his calculations were right this left him with about half an hour’s time without supervision. 

A part of his brain was screaming he should go back to Flourish and Blotts, talk to Hermione, say something to make everything well again. But he knew there was nothing he could say or do that would solve the problem at hand. And he also kept telling himself she would not be at the bookshop any more anyways. So he had finally ended up in front of the Magical Menagerie and, out of a whim, had walked in just to find Fred and Hermione already there.

“Hermione,” he said quietly, “Fred.“

“Okay, lovelies, I think this is the moment when the jester leaves the stage for a moment to get some ice cream at Fortescue's. See you in a tick.“

Fred was out of the shop before they could hold him back. Draco realized the awkwardness of the situation and was about to turn on the spot and run, when Hermione spoke up.

“Found your voice again, did you?“ she asked. ”Good to know you are not going to be mute for the rest of your life. Just in front of your father, then, is it?“

Draco sighed.

“Hermione, I am sorry,” he started. 

Yes, he was sorry. He had not formulated the thought as such before, but he felt incredibly sorry and ashamed he had not dared to stand up for her earlier on. 

She shook her head. Her lower lip was trembling. Was she about to cry? 

_Oh, please, don't cry,_ he begged silently.  _Please, don't._

“Listen, Draco. I won't have this conversation with you here and now, because it is completely pointless. You let your father insult me in the worst way possible and did not even look up. Did you see what Fred did? That was incredibly stupid as well, but it was also very nice and brave and I think it's just what a proper friend would do.“

That stung.

“Hermione, you know I come from a different background than your favourite Weasle. I like you. You're clever and strong and smart and you were there for me last year, when hardly anyone else was. I... it's just not easy to make this clear to my father. He started talking to me again, you know. He seems to be okay with my being in Ravenclaw now. He calls it a 'disgrace' and has handed in a paper insiting on a re-sorting that Dumbledore will never comply with, but he does not see me as inferior any more just because the damned hat made a mistake.“

Hermione stared at him.

“Okay,” she said calmly. 

Draco flinched. He knew that this was the worst mood she could reach. When she had gone past shouting, she reached this calmness that was worse than any insult she could have come up with. It was cold, indifferent, the wall she put up around her feelings to hide how hurt she really was.

“You know what, Draco: I think if you can't be my friend in front of your father, perhaps you should consider not being my friend at all.“

With this, she walked out of the shop as quickly as she could. Draco remained frozen on the spot.

“I don't want to interfere or anything, young man,” the saleswoman behind the counter said, “but this really did not go well, did it?“

 

~*~*~*~

 

They were late when they arrived at King's Cross. Really late. Which meant that any effort to get through to Platform 9 ¾ without attracting Muggle attention was abandoned in favour of getting to the train in time. 

“Race you!“ Fred shouted, blinking at George and the twins ran through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 in a brisk sprint.

Ginny was a bit nervous, but after she had seen her brothers pass the barrier, she smiled brightly and walked through the barrier in front of Hermione.

A few seconds later, Molly and Arthur were there as well to wave good bye to their children. Percy followed with his usual stiff demeanour.

“One day, he'll just burst,“ Fred murmured. “Seriously, he'll burst.“

Hermione shook her head. For some reason or other, her and Percy got along fairly well. He'd decided to like her because she was smart. She had decided she would not let his cocky, arrogant behaviour get in the way of making his acquaintance. It had worked out well enough. This summer, he'd even lent her a book from his shelf – which, according to the twins, was as close to a marriage proposal as it got for Percy, the only other person whom he had ever allowed to touch one of his books being his girlfriend Penelope Clearwater.

The train was already giving off puffs of steam. The Hogwarts Express Engine, gleaming in bright red, seemed to be eager to roll off towards the north. Everywhere along the platform, children said good bye to their parents and climbed into one of the comfortable old carriages.

“All right, everyone get onto the train. Boys, look after Ginny a bit, will you?”

“Mum!” Ginny protested. 

“Seriously, mum,” Fred chided while giving Hermione and Ginny a hand to pull them into the carriage door, “She's our sister. We taught her to look after herself from when she was a toddler.”

Molly laughed and waved, then suddenly turned pale. 

“Where are Ron and Harry?” she asked, her voice a full octave higher than usual. “Did you see them, Arthur?”

A brisk summary of the last ten minutes ended with the conclusion that the last time anyone had seen Harry or Ron had been before they had walked through the barrier. Just when they had reached that conclusion, the Hogwarts Express whistled and with the clanking of metal, the whole train started to roll. 

The twins, Ginny and Hermione watched Molly and Arthur disappear as they pulled out of the train station.

“What do you think happened?” Hermione asked slightly baffled.

“Haven't got the foggiest,” Fred answered. 

“I hope Harry is alright,” Ginny squeaked, then blushed and ran off down the aisle murmuring something about finding them a compartment.

“Merlin, she's really nuts about him, isn't she,” George said, shaking his head.

“First crush, I guess,” Fred said. “It could have been worse.”

“So, what are we going to do now?” Hermione spoke up again.

“About our lost brother and the Boy Who Lived?” Fred shrugged. “As we are on a train, we can't do much, can we? So I guess we'll go see whether our formidable sister has found a compartment and then take advantage of the fact that there's one less Ronald Weasley around to want a share off the sweets trolley.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

Draco knew, Hermione would not come round to the Slytherin compartment this time. She had been clear enough about her feelings and he couldn't even be angry at her, because she was completely right. But the fact he knew she would not show up did not stop him from looking up hopefully every single time someone passed the compartment door.

“May I suggest you don't try to play cool and tell us what happened between you and our favourite female Mudbood?” Theo asked after about ten minutes on the train.

“What do you mean?”

“We mean: Why is Hermione not here?”

Blaise was still struggling with his hand luggage which was far too big for the baggage rack and was currently standing on his seat with bare feet, trying to balance it in a way so it would stay up.

“Seriously, Draco,” he said looking down at his friend. “If you screwed that one up, you're much more of a douche bag than I assumed you were.”

“Well, your luck then,” Draco hissed, standing up. 

He needed to get out of there. He could not face their questions. He knew they would be furious. All of them. As if they would have acted any different if they had been in his place! As if they did not all come from the same part of society! As if they weren't all Death Eater children!

He paced down the aisle in a brisk walk. He wanted to smash something, kick someone, kill someone's cat, just to stop feeling like a jerk. He did not even see the door opening, did not see the girl step into the aisle. He just ran straight into her so she toppled over and dropped the stack of magazines she was carrying. The incident brought him back to his senses.

“I am sorry,” he said automatically, reaching out a hand to help her up. 

She was beautiful, in a peculiar, strange way; that was the first thing that struck him. Her dirty blonde hair fell down her shoulders in waves. Her eyes had an odd colour, a light grey that gave her a dreamy, almost otherworldly expression. He was sure he had never met her before but something about the way she dressed – were those radishes she wore as earrings? - suggested she wasn't Muggle born. So, someone from the Wizarding world, but nobody from the circles the Malfoys moved in. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked, noticing how she touched her knee very gently with her hand. 

The green of her dress and the purple tights surely were a fashion statement that would have had Pansy cry in pain.

“No worries,” she said, her voice as light as a feather. “I'm usually all right.”

She bent down to pick up the magazines. Draco noticed they were all copies of the same edition of the “Quibbler.” He'd never actually known anyone to read that paper. As far as he knew, the tabloid mainly focussed on conspiracy theories, articles about non-existent magical creatures and other oddities. 

The girl stood up again and smiled at him before holding out her hand again.

“I'm Luna, by the way. Luna Lovegood.”

“Draco Malfoy,” Draco said, grabbing her hand, noticing how tiny and narrow her fingers were.

“Ah, I thought so,” she said. “Does your family still have issues with Wrackspurts?”

He stared at her for a second and she nodded as if he had just proven a point.

“Don't worry, it happens to a lot of people.”

“Does it.”

“Oh yes, hundreds. My father has done some research on it.”

Her eyes fell on his school robes and tie and her eyes widened.

“Oh, you are in Ravenclaw! How lovely. My mother was in Ravenclaw as well.”

A shadow seemed to pass over her face but it vanished too quickly for Draco to be completely sure.

“I would love to be in Ravenclaw,” the blonde girl babbled on, “or in Gryffindor. But I guess I'll be in Ravenclaw. I'm not courageous enough to be a Gryffindor. And it would be nice if I'd be in Ravenclaw, I'd already know you. We could be friends. Perhaps.”

Draco assumed a lot of people might find the little witch more than slightly annoying but to his utter surprise he did not feel this way. In contrary, he enjoyed her fresh naïveté. It made the world look less bleak.

“Yes,” he said with a smile. “Yes, Luna, I guess we could be friends.”

 

 

_ A./N.: Thank you so much for reading and leaving kudos and commenting. I am sorry it took me way too long to update this time. My life is seriously crazy at the moment. Don't think for one second this is abandoned though. I have way too many ideas in my head where this is going to go. I just happen to have the problem that 24 hours aren't enough to squeeze everything I wanna do into my days.  _

_ @Lexitania: Yap, exactly the reaction I expected :-) _

_ @knittedup: How lovely! As the first book is quite long I am pretty impressed with you catching up on the story so quickly. I hope you won't be disappointed with the rest of it. _

 

 

 


	4. Show Offs and Madmen

**Life’s Greatest Treasure – Book II – Chapter 4: Show Offs and Madmen**

 

In their first year, they had been brought to school in tiny boats that had had to cross the lake. It was a tradition that the students entered their education in that way and rowed back after having finished it. It had, admittedly, provided a stunning view. The huge castle lurking on a hillside, all windows lit in welcome. It had also provided quite a few people with a nasty cold as it had been raining that night. Now, Hermione was quite happy to get onto one of the coaches that were awaiting the other pupils. She wondered how it was possible that the coaches moved without any kind of engine or draught animal. There must be some pretty fascinating magic behind it. She got onto the coach with Fred, George and Ginny. Both she and the red haired girl were still grinning widely. George had asked an awful lot of questions about Pansy. What had she been doing during the holidays? Had she and Hermione stayed in contact?

 “Seriously, George, why didn't you just send her an owl?” Hermione had finally asked.

There had been no answer, although the answer was all too clear hanging in the air over their heads. The Parkinsons and the Weasleys did not go well together. There had never been much interaction between the families but the interaction that had been there had not been of a pleasant nature. Nonetheless, Hermione thought, times could change and they were a new generation. The future was in their hands and they had the power to destroy old borders, reach out across trenches, make friends in circles that their parents had never frequented. She didn't say any of this out loud. She knew well enough that the structures in Wizarding Society were much more manifest than in the Muggle world. Things moved slowly if they moved at all and George sending a letter to the girl whom he so very obviously found interesting would have been hasty and inconsiderate.

The coaches rolled up the hill towards the castle. When they got out, the wind had freshened and Hermione was happy to wear her warm woollen sweater. Fred and George stormed off to say hello to Lee Jordan, a boy from George's year in Gryffindor. Just when the girls where about to head inside as well, they saw Hagrid and the first years walk up the slope from the lakeside. So the crossing had been much quicker this year. One girl whose dirty blonde long hair fell down almost to her buttocks, stopped dead in her stride when she saw the carriages. She said something to the girl next to her. Hermione couldn't be completely sure as the torches did not give off enough light, but she believed she saw the other kid give the blonde an odd look before walking off at a brisk step. The blonde looked around, then left the group and came up to the carriages, stopping in front of the one closest to her.

“... and then she patted the air and spoke into the void,” Hermione said while they waited for the last students to file into the Great Hall before the feast could begin. “Just pray we don't end up with that nutcase in Ravenclaw.”

Fred started coughing.

“Merlin!” he exclaimed. “I guess we really have a bad influence on you, Granger. You just used the word 'nutcase' for a total stranger. Where's your 'always be kind and never judge' attitude gone?”

Hermione shrugged.

“You can call an apple a pear but it will still be an apple. That girl has serious problems.”

The sorting ceremony began. Hermione’s eyes wandered around the room and she noticed that Ron and Harry were still missing from the Gryffindor table. What had happened at King’s Cross? She pointedly ignored Draco who was sitting a few paces away. She had noticed the boy had glanced her way a couple of times since he had walked into the Great Hall, but she did not want to talk to him, did not even want to think about him.

When about half of the pupils had been sorted, Professor McGonagall called out the name “Luna Lovegood”.

“That’s her,” Hermione whispered, when the blonde girl marched towards the front of the room. “That’s the crazy girl.”

“She has an air of infinite oddness around her,” Fred agreed. “What do you think? Michael? Anthony? I bet six sickles on her being sorted into Hufflepuff.”

Some coins were piled into the middle, a piece of parchment was quickly drawn out and the bets noted down. They had just finished the procedure when the slit in the hat opened and it shouted: “RAVENCLAW!”

“Merlin’s burnt beard!” Fred exclaimed as Anthony Goldstein raised his fist in triumph and quickly collected the coins from the table.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Draco couldn’t help but smile when the hat exclaimed that Luna Lovegood, the slightly strange girl from the train, would be in Ravenclaw as well. When she made her way to the table, he waved at her. A smile stole onto her face and she seemed to radiate with joy as she sat down on the empty chair opposite him.

“Hello Draco. I am so happy I got sorted into Ravenclaw,” she smiled. “This way I already know someone in my house.”

“I’m happy you ended up in Ravenclaw, too,” Draco replied and noticed – to his own astonishment – that he meant every syllable of it.

When the feast was finally served, Luna’s eyes widened. The wooden tables seemed to bend under the weight of all the shiny plates laden with food and goblets filled with different kinds of juice and tea.

“This is amazing,” the girl said, spooning sweet potato mash onto her plate. “Is it always like this?”

“The feast at the beginning of term has slightly greater dimensions than their usual dinner, but the food is generally excellent. There’s a battalion of house elves working in the kitchens. There are rumours that they only accept newcomers after they proved they can make perfect shepherd’s pie.”

“Amazing!” Luna repeated, piling turnips next to her mashed potato.

Dinner was excellent. Draco couldn’t remember whether food at Hogwarts had always tasted this nice. Perhaps it was the company of Luna that made him see it in a different light. Some of the other students eyed them with strange looks on their faces, but he found her freshness and open awe quite charming.

The announcement of Lockhart as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was no surprise. The man had made a point out of telling Witch Weekly, The Daily Prophet and several other papers about his new position. Draco noticed how some girls suddenly had dreamy expressions on their faces as Lockhart stood up to say a few words to the whole congregation. His father’s words echoed in his head. “Lockhart is a good for nothing idiot. Half of the stories he tells in his books are stolen from other people’s lives. He’s a show-off at best and a dazzler at worst.”

“I don’t think he’s going to be a good teacher,” Luna stated out of nowhere. “I was told he had to call in help to get rid of his garden gnomes last summer.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

Later that night, George Weasley stumbled through the door into the Ravenclaw common room. He was one of very few pupils from other houses who knew the exact location of the door and had never been stuck in front of it while trying to answer the question every intruder was asked. Fred had long ago decided that it could as well have been George who ended up in the “wrong” house and had stopped questioning the ways of the world.

“Guess what!” the younger twin – by five minutes – exclaimed as he ran over to the window seat that Fred and Hermione had occupied as usual.

“Ron and Harry showed up again?” Fred guessed. There was nothing else that would have caused George to be in this state.

“Yap! The barrier at King’s Cross closed before they could run through. So ...”

“... Don’t tell me they decided to fly dad’s car to Hogwarts.”

“Yes they did!”

“Awesome,” Fred said leaning back in the seat and grinning. “Ron’s worthy to be our brother after all."

“They almost got expelled!”

As it turned out, the two boys had done well enough but the invisibility drive of the car had failed half way up to Hogwarts and they had crash-landed the Vauxhall Anglia in the Whomping Willow, a pretty rare and valuable tree that had for decades stood on the Hogwarts grounds.

“Snape caught them. Bad luck. I guess McGonagall and Dumbledore were only amused about what happened but Gilderoy Lockhart made a point out of lecturing Harry on not trying to get attention by doing stupid things or something like that. As if our precious ‘boy who lived’ wanted any more attention than he already gets. Detentions for both as you can guess.”

“Mum will be furious,” Fred stated.

The twins exchanged a glance.

“She’ll send a howler,” they realized simultaneously.

“We should give Ron a present for that,” George suggested. “I mean, hey, it’s his first howler after all.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

Draco had tried to talk to Hermione. He had tried to meet her casually on his way out of the Great Hall but it had not worked out due to some kid from Luna’s year who had been sorted into Gryffindor and pushed his huge camera into everyone’s face. Draco decided he disliked Colin Creevey very much indeed and shouldered past him, almost making the tiny boy fall over.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Luna commented.

Usually he’d have snapped at anyone who’d said anything of the sort, but her innocence kept her safe from his snide remarks. They had found a nice spot by the fire in the Common Room and he had explained to her how the timetables worked and which classes were particularly cool in his eyes (Potions! Transfiguration! Flying!) and which were particularly boring (Astronomy! Herbology! History of Magic!)

Luna absorbed all the information he gave her like a sponge and asked questions that nobody else would have come up with and that sometimes threw him off balance. Was it true that Professor McGonagall was an Animagus and could turn herself into a striped cat? Did Professor Dumbledore really like sweets as much as her dad had told her? And finally: Wasn’t it odd that the coaches taking the older students to the castle were drawn by Thestrals?

“They aren’t drawn by anything,” Draco said aghast. “They are enchanted and roll by themselves. What’s a Thestral anyway?”

That was when he learnt that Luna was not as naive and innocent as she seemed to be. Her mother had experimented with a spell and lost her life that way. The girl had witnessed the death of one of her parents at the age of eight and thereby could now see the Thestrals who were invisible to anyone but those who had seen death. She explained that the creatures looked a bit like starving horses with wings.

“They aren’t beautiful,” she said. “A lot of people dislike them because they are linked to death and are ugly and kind of different. They look a bit like a reptile, really and their skin’s all leathery. They have no fur. But they are nice animals. They never bite and they care for their young and they are incredibly loyal if you raise them in the right way. I think Hogwarts must have the biggest domesticated herd in England.”

Draco considered whether she was talking sense or whether this was another one of the mysterious invented creatures her father had come up with in the “Quibbler”. He decided he believed her and made a mental note to look up Thestrals in the library the next day.

“I like it here,” Luna said suddenly and out of context looking around the common room. “It has a very warm feeling to it. I think I will go to bed now. See you at breakfast, Draco Malfoy.”

 

_A./N. Sorry, sorry, sorry and again: Sorry for the looong wait. I know I keep promising it'll get better and I seriously hope it will be soon. I know that it's terrible to have to wait for a new chapter for more than two weeks but at the moment, I hardly find the time to sleep. My life's just gone crazy. I hope you'll keep reading nonetheless. I won't abandon this. It's way too much fun to write it (if I find the time to write)._

_Many thanks again to Liz who is my ever-patient and ever-lovely beta for this story._

_@lexitania: Sorry, Ginny's gonna be a Gryffindor. I never saw her in Slytherin and I guess the way I see her and the way I will write her will make her more of a Gryffindor than she ever was. Although the idea is kind of tempting. I might do slytherin!Ginny in a different story some day._

_@fenitron007: Good to have you back ;-) Admittedly, Ron will always be a douche in my stories. I really can't help it. I know it's a common enough trope, but in a way he's just so incredibly immature all the time, he'd drive me up the wall if I ever met him in person... Luna/Ron never ever crossed my mind, btw. (probably because I love Luna and don't have much love for Ron. She'd be wasted on him)._

 


	5. Gilderoy Lockhart

**Life’s Greatest Treasure – Book II – Chapter 5: Gilderoy Lockhart**

 

When they looked back later, they both decided that it probably was the Lockhart incident that broke the ice between them again. Actually, there was no such thing as one single Lockhart incident but a series of painful incidents that all occurred in a span of two days as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher proved himself less than capable to fill out his position. On the first evening, Hermione thought she detected a smile on Professor Snape’s usually stoic face. On the night of the second evening, there was an obvious grin. Everyone knew that Snape had originally applied for the DADA post but due to his past – he had been a Death Eater once – had ended up as potions master. Hermione wasn’t even sure whether the man still harboured a grudge because of the position he didn’t get. Most of the time, he seemed more than content in his realm in the dungeons between kettles and herbs. It was more than obvious though that the failure of his colleague amused him greatly.

The Lockhart incident that laid the foundation for a new start in Hermione and Draco’s friendship was the teacher’s horrendous performance during the class they shared with the Hufflepuffs. As it was one of his very first classes, word had not yet spread around the school and the only thing that hinted at something having gone amiss in the earlier class (fourth year Slytherins and Ravenclaws) were some scorch marks on the floor. Lockhart himself appeared fashionably late from the chamber behind the classroom. He looked as if he had just prepared for a photo shoot. His hair was combed in waves, his crimson cloak and dark blue vest contrasted handsomely and Hermione wondered whether the man was really wearing make-up or whether he used a charm of some sort on the skin on his face to make it look a bit like porcelain.

“Good morning, my dears,” he said, flashing his teeth and striding towards the desk in front of the room, eyeing his audience as if this were a theatre and he were the leading man in his first monologue.

“Can I file a complaint against him because he calls me ‘dear’?” Draco murmured. “It makes me quite uncomfortable.”

He had taken the seat next to her, and Hermione had pointedly ignored him up to now. She couldn’t help but chuckle at his words though. She agreed that being called ‘dear’ by that self-obsessed peacock of a man was hardly what anyone could want in their lives. She glanced around the room and made a mental note that, yes, it could be what people wanted in their lives if they were Mandy Brocklehurst or Hannah Abbot.

Lockhart spent the first five minutes of his lesson handing out papers to them which both Hermione and Draco expected to be questionnaires to determine how much they had learnt during their first year. When Hermione looked down onto the paper and read the first question, she was up for a surprise though. Next to her, Draco was muttering the questions under his breath interspersed with a lot of “Merlin’s striped pants” and “he can’t be serious” exclamations. Lockhart was very serious indeed about this questionnaire though. Because: “If you have read my books – which you definitely should have done as preparation for this class – you will find this very easy to master.”

Hermione and Draco handed back an empty sheet of paper. Mandy and Hannah asked for an extra twelve inches of parchment. The teacher praised the two girls who immediately had a giggling fit. He frowned at the papers that were handed back to him without a single line written on them and he raised an eyebrow over Anthony Goldstein’s very lifelike drawing of a cave troll.

Finally, Lockhart seemed to be intending to start teaching his subject instead of random fan-trivia. He let them open their books at the chapter about imps. They had quickly skimmed the subject in their first year but had not encountered one of these creatures first hand.

“You will find them to be rather nasty little creatures. But don’t be afraid. If anything goes wrong, I will handle it,” Lockhart announced, pulling back his sleeves. He let a huge chest hover into the classroom through the back door and then opened the padlock on it with an Alohomora spell. The lid flew open immediately and a tiny creature – no more than five or six inches tall - climbed out. It was rather hideous with grey skin and huge, flapping ears. Its eyes glinted mischievously.

Lockhart looked as if he was about to say something but he never got there as the creature threw a fire cracker right at him burning a hole into his flamboyant coat.

“Good grief,” Draco whispered. “Is it just me or is this man even less competent than I thought he’d be?”

It turned out that competence was definitely something that Lockhart did not possess – at least not when it came to handling one single small imp. For a while, Hermione, Draco and the other students watched the creature tease their teacher but when it leapt at Michael’s table and tried to kick his nose, about half a dozen students had their wands out and cast a stunning spell that sent the imp flying through the classroom. It bounced against a wall and then fell down to the floor limply.

“Did we hurt it?” Hermione asked with concern in her voice.

Draco shook his head and laughed at the same time.

“Hermione, you are seriously the nicest girl I know. Nobody on this planet gives a hoot about the health of an imp. No, it’s not hurt, it’s only stunned and it’ll have a head ache when it wakes up.”

In front of the class, Lockhart was still trying to stop his coat from burning whilst repeating the words “I am fine, fine, fine.”

“Lunch?” Draco asked.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Later that evening they were sitting in the window seat together. Draco had brought Luna along, which was okay for everyone as long as she did not say too much. Hermione found the dreamy girl’s tendency to blurt out things that were either obvious or had nothing to do with the current subject slightly unnerving, but Draco seemed to have decided to like her. As Draco did not exactly have a wide circle of friends in their house, she was willing to give Luna a chance and endure her presence.

George and Ginny had also come round as had Pansy – a coincidence that made Hermione raise an eyebrow. The hot topic of the day was - unsurprisingly – Gilderoy Lockhart.

“Seriously, the man made us read five chapters of ‘Year with the Yeti,’” Ginny complained. “It’s the worst book I ever read in my life. I think I am just going to die from bad-style poisoning.”

“He brought Cornish Pixie’s into the Gryffindor and Slytherin lesson,” Pansy said.

She was blushing slightly and Hermione remembered how excited her friend had been that Lockhart would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year.

“And Ron, Harry and some from Theo’s lot stunned them,” George chimed in with a wide grin on his face. “I have to say I am quite surprised ickle Ronnikins remembered the stunning spell, but then de-Gnoming the garden might have taught him one thing or the other.”

“Living with you taught us one thing or the other,” Ginny stated.

They stayed together until the fires died down and one of the Prefects came round to remind the Gryffindor and Slytherin pupils that they had to be in their respective Houses before curfew.

“I’ll walk you down to the dungeons,” the Ravenclaws heard George say to Pansy as they walked towards the door.

Fred, Hermione and Draco exchanged a glance.

“Are they a couple?” Luna enquired from where she was sitting on the floor her back resting against Draco’s legs. “I never heard of Gryffindors and Slytherins dating, but they are both really nice. It would make sense. And Ginny’s nice as well. I like her. She’s a lot like George and you, Fred.”

 

_A./N. I apologize for the pace that this is progressing at at the moment. I am really struggling to find the time to write. I sent an application to the Minsitry of Magic to allow me the use of a time turner, but haven't heard back from them yet. Thanks to everyone who is reading this and leaving kudos and comments. It makes me so happy to see the traffic and appreciation this story gets because it means the plot bunny I carried around with me for half a decade actually works for other people as well. Big thanks go out to Liz as always for beta-ing this._

_@Cat: Yes, I know how you feel. I did not keep them mad at each other for long this time, but there's plenty of opportunity for more drama in the upcoming books. Pre-teenage children might be a pain, but teenagers are even worse in my eyes when it comes to being mad at each other and carrying a grudge. Hormones... aren't they a strange invention? (Also, you are absolutely right about Fred)._

_@Lexitania: This made me smile. Yeah she's here, because I love this girl to bits. I love "cinnamon bun"... I might have to use that as a nickname for her at some point._

_@smilesaretoxic: Thank you so much! Glad I could brighten up your day. Not so glad I distracted you from class. I won't take any blame for your exam grades ;-) And well... Luna and Malfoy is a kind of odd constellation but it's always been an idea that did not strike me as completely impossible (I even wrote a Druna one-shot once). There are really just two ways Draco can react to her. Version a would be the (probably more canonical) idea of Draco making fun of her and treating her badly because she's odd. But then, look at the people he chose as is friends. Crabbe and Goyle are hardly super-cool-friends material (and yeah, sometimes he treats them badly as well but there must be a reason why they put up with him). So there is a chance him and Luna could become friends as well._


	6. Broken, Bent and Bludgeoned

**Life’s Greatest Treasure – Book II – Chapter 6: Broken, Bent and Bludgeoned**

 

Everyone was talking about the Quidditch Tryouts. A few positions on all of the house teams were vacant after some of the team members had graduated. In Ravenclaw, two positions as Chasers and the position of Seeker were open for trials. Gryffindor was not as desperate as the year before, when McGonagall had bent the rules so Harry Potter could play Seeker although he was still a first year and first years students usually were not allowed on the teams. They were only looking to fill one Beater position.

"I regret we can’t play on one team together,” George said one sunny afternoon when the twins and Hermione were enjoying a cup of hot chocolate that the Gryffindor had organized from the kitchen house elves on the steps in front of the main entrance. “We’d be incredible.”

Hermione imagined the twins playing beaters on the same team and she had to admit that hardly anyone would be able to get past them. They were completely in sync with each other. They even finished each other’s sentences. Sometimes Hermione got the impression that the only time that Fred really felt complete was when he was around George. The bond they shared was so obvious but impossible to grasp for an only child. It was something she envied, having someone whom you felt such a strong attachment to.

The Tryouts were scheduled to happen in a single week. Slytherin had won the Monday-afternoon slot, Gryffindor would have people fly trial for the Beater position on Tuesday, Ravenclaw Tryouts were on Wednesday and on Thursday it was Hufflepuff’s turn.

On Monday evening, a steaming George Weasley and a furious Ginny came rushing up to the Ravenclaw table. Unceremoniously, they sat down and started talking at the same second.

“It’s so unfair!” Ginny cried out. “It’s just so incredibly and utterly unfair!”

“I am personally going to kick Theodore Nott’s aristocratic ass if nobody else does it before me,” George exclaimed.

Draco, who was sitting opposite Hermione and had been preoccupied with a copious amount of pudding, looked up.

“What’s the matter, little Weasle, George?”

He had taken to calling Ginny “little Weasle.” It sounded very different from what the word sounded like when he referred to Ron, more of a nickname than an insult. He liked the red haired girl with the flaring temper. The only thing he’d probably never understand was here obvious and slightly unsettling obsession with Harry Potter, but that was hardly his problem.

“Theo Nott, one of your little pure blood friends, just bought his way into the Slytherin team,” George hissed.

Draco stared.

“He did what?” Fred asked.

“Bought the new Nimbus model, you know, the fancy black varnish one? Full set of brooms for the team, Slytherin crest on the stick,” Ginny explained.

“They didn’t even have Tryouts for Seeker. He just got the post because his dad made such a generous donation,” George spat.

Draco met Hermione’s glance. He knew she remembered the letter he had gotten on Saturday. The letter he had only skimmed over and then torn to pieces and thrown into the fire. She had not asked about its contents but he had told her anyway. Malfoy senior had offered his son to do exactly what Nott had done. Buy Ravenclaw a new set of brooms and some new flying protectors and Draco’s place on the team was as good as safe.

“As if I needed his help,” Draco had murmured. “As if I weren’t good enough a flyer to make it on the team without his damned money and connections.”

“Theo’s not a bad flyer,” he interjected now.

“No he isn’t,” Ginny admitted. “He’d probably have become Seeker by the proper way if he had properly tried out for it. And I think he’s the best boy for the post. The only other applicant was some guy from fifth year. I’ve never seen him fly but there’s probably a reason why he’s in fifth year and never made the team. But instead, he’s just let his daddy shove money up the team’s butts. I don’t know why I am even surprised, because that is so typical for your lot.”

Draco flinched when she said “your lot.” She was right though. It had always been a means of the privileged to buy their way into positions. Money could open a lot of doors. It could also leave a lot of doors shut or make people blind on both eyes. Money was a powerful tool.

“You are surprised because Draco has proven more than once that he is not prone to acting in the stereotypical manner of ‘his lot,’” Hermione said calmly.

Ginny bit her lip. It was clear she had not thought about how much her words hat to hurt the blond boy. She knew nothing about the letter, yet she had seen more than enough of Hermione and Draco’s friendship to realize that he was not becoming a smaller version of his father.

Their conversation turned to the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Tryouts. Fred and George would both be playing beaters again.

“Mum will throw a fit,” Ginny stated nonchalantly. “She’ll send you both Howlers again. You are aware of that I hope?”

They were aware of it. And they didn’t give a damn.

 

~*~*~*~

The week went by. There was some news concerning the Quidditch teams. Harry Potter would play Seeker again for Gryffindor – this time properly and without any cheating – and Ginny was gushing about how excellent he had flown during the first tryout session. Michael Corner was badly beaten up during the Tryout for Ravenclaw Beater. Professor Flitwick condemned him to polishing the trophies in the trophy room under Filch’s supervision. Fred accepted the punishment without a word. This was so very unlike him that Hermione became suspicious.

“What exactly happened?” she enquired one evening when they were alone on the window seat while Draco was explaining to Luna how to draw a proper constellation map for astronomy.

“What exactly happened when and where and why?” Fred retorted waving his wand at some Chocolate Candy he had bought back in Diagon Alley.

The chocolate turned green. He frowned, mumbling something like ‘It’s not supposed to change colour. Why does it always change colour?”

“Fred Weasley,” Hermione insisted. “Why exactly did you hit that Bludger so it flew right into Michael’s face?”

Fred sighed.

“Do you know something about family honour, Granger? Does a thing like that exist in the Muggle universe? Let’s just say Michael badly insulted my family honour and I had to resort to non-verbal means to make him shut up.”

Hermione’s gaze drifted toward Michael and Mandy who were bent over their last Potions essays.

 "What did he say?” she asked quietly.

 Fred frowned, then sighed.

"He said something nasty about George. My dear brother had made the mistake to come watch the trials with your friend Parkinson and Corner called him a Pure-blood Puppy. When I told him I wasn’t having that, he went on to insult Ginny... don’t let me repeat what he said about her or I’ll have to go over to him right now and break his nose once again.”

Hermione sighed. Why could they not let go of these old feuds and difficulties and all that hatred?

“By the way...” Fred murmured looking around as if he wanted to make sure they were out of earshot from everybody else. “I think you should talk to Pansy. George is worried about her. She’s starting to look really sickly. I know you’re close to her. I know you might be able to do something. George will hate me if he ever finds out I asked you to do this, but he kind of really likes her and I’d rather see him happy then see her wither away.”

Hermione sighed. She knew exactly what her friend was talking about. Pansy had always been thin. Hermione had also noticed the cuts and burns on her porcelain skin a couple of times when she had not been careful enough and her long black sleeves had slipped up and revealed a couple of centimetres of her lower arm. She had not found a way to ask the girl about it. How did you talk to someone about their self-destructive tendencies?

“I don’t know if I can do anything,” she murmured. “It seems to me that this is kind of similar to what the House Elves tend to do.”

Fred looked up with a questioning glance. Hermione shrugged.

“You know: ‘Punish yourself if you don’t obey your master!’ Pansy... her being friends with George would not really be appreciated by her mother, would it? And she keeps her friendship with me a secret as well I think. I had to send the owls to a strange address over the summer.”

Fred sighed.

“If that is the problem, it might only get worse over time.”

Hermione nodded.

“Sometimes I am mighty glad my parents don’t give a toss about that whole pure blood thing,” Fred grinned. “My mother loves you, Hermione. She’d probably adopt you if that need ever arose.”

They both laughed.

“Party of chess?” Fred asked, conjuring up a chess board out of nowhere.

Hermione smiled.

“Excellent idea. You’re already dead, checkmate.”

 

_A./N.: Thanks again for being patient and waiting. My life's still a mess. I don't know if it will ever return to normal again. So bi-weekly updates is as much as I can do at the moment. Had to insert a trigger-warning because of Pansy. Huge hugs and thanks to Liz for beta-ing again._

_@lexitania: Thank you so much! And I am glad you like the idea of Pansy and George (because I like it A LOT). Also: If you ever read my Marauders fics, you might already know that I have a soft spot for Wolfstar. It might not be obvious and there-in-your-face, but it's always an underlying thing. I am absolutely positive that I could never write Book III without at least hinting at it._

_@KenjoCatze: Glad you liked it. I wanted it to be Draco, because I think it shows how different he already is from the book-version. I hope it still comes across as believable._


	7. Wands and Whispers

** Life’s Greatest Treasure – Book II – Chapter 7: Wands and Whispers **

Ronald Weasley’s wand, which had almost broken in half when he and Harry had landed the Vauxhall Anglia in the Whomping Willow at the beginning of the term, turned out to be much more of a problem than it had seemed at first. The red-head had fixed it with tape which he had borrowed from one of his Muggle friends but there was absolutely no way it would ever be right again. When he almost managed to curse Ginny’s ears off in an attempt to let a cookie from a jar next to her float towards him with a simple Wingardium Leviosa, Professor McGonagall who had witnessed the incident, came over to ask the youngest Weasley brother to accompany her to her office. As it turned out there was such a thing as borrowing wands. They had been tested by three different professors including the headmaster as to their powers and attitudes. 

“You cannot expect,” McGonagall explained to a baffled Ron, “that this wand will feel the same as your old wand. My good friend Mr. Ollivander tends to say that the wand chooses the wizard. In a very metaphorical flowery way this is exactly right. There are different cores that can be used for a wand as well as different woods. The cores have certain qualities, the woods have others. They combine and thus create what Ollivander would probably call the character of the wand. It’s very old magic actually, old magic and science. A wand made of XX and XX will be better suited for an introvert than an extrovert for example.”

She handed one of the wands in front of her to her pupil.

“Try the Lumos spell, please!” she said.

The wand lit up for a second but the light went out again very quickly.

“Well that is a start. You know, these are wands that have never belonged, properly belonged, to any one person. They are bound from forming that singular attachment you usually find by a multitude of spells which will also erase the wood’s memory of every pupil who ever has to use them for a period of time before acquiring a new wand of their own. This one is Cedar – I see why that might work. There is Beech wood here – probably not what I would suggest for you, Mr Weasley – and the one that looks a bit like ivory is an Aspen wood wand. There’s no chance we’d ever get an Acacia or Ash wand to perform as well as these here do with different owners. 

She snatched the wand from Ron’s hand again and handed him a different one. 

“English Oak. Could you please just cast a simple spell for me, so we can find out whether this one will light up as well as the Cedar wand?”

It turned out, the other wand did not light up. Instead, it produced quite a mighty flame that almost torched Professor McGonagalls desk, which made it much easier for the head of Gryffindor house to decide upon which wand to lend to her pupil.

~*~*~*~

Draco had made it onto the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. He’d have favoured the Seeker position, but was glad to be part of the team in any form. Chaser wasn’t a bad job and he was pretty good at scoring goals from weird angles. He’d been accepted after a very quick try-out after the first choice for the post had turned out to have helped his luck along with a spell or two which he had not re-cast before the first training session when he almost fell off his broom. 

“Glad you’re with us, mate,” Fred said in a jovial tone that evening. “You’re much better than Roger. He’s a prick. Oh, I am sorry Miss Granger. Do I have to elaborate? He’s pretty much what you would have turned out to be if you had not run into the right kind of friends accidentally. He’s an annoying, babbling know-it-all. I don’t have anything against being intelligent. I believe everyone in this round” – he looked intensely at Hermione, Draco and Luna – “has a certain level of intelligence which might be well beyond mediocre. But we don’t go about boasting and being cocky and licking every teacher’s boots – well with exception of Snape, because Snape has a profound dislike for any kind of bootlicking.”

They shared a laugh. Then Luna spoke up.

“I heard Ronald has a new wand, finally.”

She never used nicknames. It was a peculiarity, but nobody noticed. After all, everything about Luna was kind of peculiar. Just now, she was making a necklace out of butter beer corks and yarn.

“Indeed,” Fred grinned. “And he’s got a new hobby as well. Seems like McGonagall got him interested in wand lore. He keeps throwing information at anyone who wants to know – and also to those who don’t give a damn.”

“Wand lore?” Hermione asked. “What’s that about?”

“It’s about what your wand says about your character,” Luna explained. “A bit like astronomy, but with more truth in it. What’s yours made of?”

“Vine with a dragon heartstring core.”

“So. If you follow the old ideas, Vine wands are usually found with people who have hidden depths. Also, they are people with a purpose and a vision. I bet Ollivander had you try Walnut first?”

Hermione nodded.

“I thought so. They are supposed to work best with people of high intelligence.”

“So what about the dragon heartstring,” Draco asked, surprised by the actual knowledge Luna seemed to possess about this topic. 

The girl usually only became as excited as she was right now when she was talking about one of her dad’s invented magical creatures.

“Ollivander only uses dragon heartstring, phoenix feather and unicorn hair as wand cores,” Luna explained. “Unicorn is kind of the safe option, consistent. Phoenix is the rarest type and is capable of a great range of magic but it doesn’t work for many people. And dragon heartstring is said to be able to cast very powerful spells but the wands can be a bit tricky and are prone to accidents.”

“You are an astounding person, Luna,” Fred said, perplexed. Even Hermione nodded. 

“So what about your wands?” she enquired eagerly, looking at her friends. “Which woods are they made of.”

“Dogwood,” Fred said. 

“Hawthorn”, Draco murmured.

Luna lifted a brow.

“That’s surprising. I mean, Dogwood is fine, it’s actually what I would have expected. Playful, but loyal. I’d have expected Cypress in your case, Draco, your family being aristocrats and such. But thinking of it Hawthorn makes a lot of sense as well.”

“Why is that?” Draco enquired. 

Luna shook her head. Her eyes fixed his for a split second. “Not now” they said.

~*~*~*~

On the next day Draco finally found a chance to talk to the blonde-haired first year without anyone overhearing them. Fred and Hermione had run off to Hagrid’s hut to ask for a pumpkin that so they could build a lantern to prepare the Common Room for Halloween. Draco had gone to send an owl to his mother who had asked for news from her only child. He had picked up his jacket from his room and was just heading towards the door of the Common Room to go outside, when Luna caught up with him.

“I’m coming with you,” she said waving a huge blue envelope over her head. “I wrote to my dad.”

They walked down the corridors together and Draco was painfully aware of all the whispers and stares that followed Luna wherever she went. Today she was even dressed modestly and wore a red coat, brown boots but the strange radish-earrings and the very colourful shapeless knitted hat on her head made for enough fuel to start the comments.

He had asked her if it bothered her to be teased all the time, whether she did not think it would be easier to change and adapt her ways to what was normal. She had stared at him in disbelief. 

“This is me,” she had said making a gesture that took in her whole tiny, slender figure. “There’s nothing else.”

He’d been deeply impressed by it.

“So, what about the wand?” he asked when they reached the owlery. “Why did you not want to say what you thought about the Hawthorn in front of the others?”

Luna shrugged.

“It’s said to be suited to complicated minds, people with a conflicted nature or people who have seen bad times.”

Draco bit his lip.

“It’s said that they are great at healing powers and that it needs a very skilled and strong-willed wizard to handle them,” Luna added with a smile. 

Her fingers lightly touched his shoulders and Draco considered whether it was completely inappropriate to hug a pretty crazy first year for comfort or whether it could be acceptable if it was only witnessed by a bunch of owls. Before he had come to a conclusion, she already skipped away to tie her letter to the leg of a huge brown beast. 

“Mine’s made of Pine wood,” she said over her shoulder. “Said to be best for creative people. My mum had a Pine wand as well. She was always very creative at trying new spells.”

Draco noticed the sadness in her voice and straightened his back before he went over and stroked his new friend’s back. She leaned against his hand and grinned widely.

“Are you meeting Theo and the others later?” she asked. 

For some reason, Luna had become quite popular with the Slytherin lot quite quickly. It had been a repetition of the way Hermione’s acceptance had happened. She was an oddball but she was Draco’s oddball and she was kind and did not give a fairy’s fart about anyone’s background.

“Yes, Hermione and I will meet them at the lake. Do you want to come along?”

Luna nodded. 

“I’d love to,” she said.

~*~*~*~

Fred and Hermione had spent the afternoon at Hagrid’s hut. He had offered cookies and tea. They had politely refused the cookies (Hagrid’s baking usually ended with things having the consistency of marble) and agreed to the tea. Just when he’d shown them the huge pumpkins that were growing in his yard, Harry Potter and Ron had shown up. Harry had become quite fond of Hagrid and Hagrid was more than fond of Harry. It was therefore no surprise that the boys had made their way to the hut on their afternoon off. 

Harry seemed to be disconcerted about something. After they’d sat around Hagrid’s table for half an hour, each of them holding a huge mug of herbal tea, he finally spoke up.

“You know Lockhart volunteered me to help him with his fan mail so I should ‘learn the trade’” he began.

Fred almost spat out his tea.

“Goodness, Harry! Why didn’t I hear about this yet? This is gold!”

Harry pulled a face.

“It’s not gold. It’s not even glitter. It’s annoying as hell. On one hand I have that Creevey kid follow me everywhere with his stupid camera – believe me he’d follow me into the toilet if I didn’t make sure the door was locked properly – and on the other hand I have Mr “I am a crappy teacher and an even crappier wizard but look at my toothpaste smile and my new fancy robe”-Lockhart believing I enjoy being famous and he can teach me his little celebrity game.”

Hermione and Fred both laughed so hard that tears blinked in their eyes.

“I am sorry, Harry,” Hermione said when she could breathe again. “So, what happened?”

“I heard a voice,” Harry said. “A whispering, hissing voice and it was talking about ripping something apart.”

Everyone stared at the black-haired boy with the lopsided glasses for a second. Hagrid shook his head.

“Harry, yer must have fallen asleep in that office of Mr Lockhart’s. Hogwarts is safe. Dumbledore’s makin’ bloody sure it is the safest place in England. Nothin’ will ever come into that castle without Dumbledore knowin’ about it.”

“Well... last year Voldemort lived here for a while without Dumbledore knowing it,” Harry replied.

“True story,” Fred chimed in, “I mean, he was kind of stuck in somebody else’s head, but it was still him.”

Hagrid’s face turned pale. 

“Don’t use his name, will yer? I know if yer’re young yer feel like yer own the world and nothin’ can harm yer, but...”

Harry touched his forehead, his fingers only resting on the scar for a split second.

“Believe me, Hagrid, I am perfectly aware of the fact that I don’t own the world and that there are a lot of somethings that can harm me. I am just not willing to be afraid of a damned name.”

The conversation did not go back to the hissing Harry had heard or the words that had been said. But although she hoped Hagrid was right and Harry had just drifted off into a short moment of blissful sleep after sorting through Gilderoy Lockhart’s fan mail for hours, she was not convinced that this was the solution to the riddle at all. They would have to keep their eyes and ears open. If something was in the castle and it was talking about ripping people apart, it was better to find out what it was very quickly.

 

A./N.

Thanks to everyone for reading! I know, it took me about a million years to get this chapter up and it's only kind of a filler before Hallowe'en, but I really became absorbed with wandlore when I looked a few things up and so now you'll have to cope with it. Also, anyone who is able to put a scottish accent into written speech for Hagrid, give me a shout. Because I can do a pretty good impression of a Glaswegian accent if I try hard enough, but I kenna write it for my life. 

@lexitania: Well, there was never really a point behind it being Ginny, was there? She was just convenient.

 

 

 

 


	8. It Starts Again

**Life’s Greatest Treasure – Book II – Chapter 8: It Starts Again**

 

Halloween came. Everyone seemed excited about the feast in the Golden Hall. Hagrid had spent hours and hours decorating it with huge pumpkins, which looked much taller than pumpkins should look. Some of them were big enough they had been carved out and you could sit in them. When Hermione asked him about it, he claimed he had used dragon dung as fertilizer which had led to this marvellous outcome. She wasn't the only one who suspected that some waving of his umbrella – in which the remains of his broken wand were hidden – had also been involved.

“Blimey,” Fred exclaimed in the afternoon, when he came to pick Draco up for Quidditch. The Ravenclaw team was training harder than ever. The Hufflepuff match was drawing near and after a shouting match between Cedric Diggory and Fred had turned into a fistfight in the courtyard, things had become very heated.

“Guess who will not be attending the main feast tonight, because he's too bloody nice towards everyone whether it be human or not?”

Draco shrugged.

“As you're putting the question that way, I bet you're talking about Saint Potter?”

“He's gonna go to a party one of the ghosts is throwing. And he's dragging my infamous brother along with him.”

“Uuuuh,” Draco pulled a face. “A ghost party.”

Hermione looked from one to the other. Sometimes she truly despised being born a Muggle. There were a whole lot of things that she did not know. Although Draco and Fred or even Luna did not really actively do anything to make her feel like an outsider, their different upbringing led to a certain discrepancy in how well they could communicate with each other. Fred noticed her expression and smiled encouragingly.

“Ghosts don't eat, Hermione. You probably know that. So when they throw a party, they usually order a shitload of food that has gone off and smells like hell, because this way, they can still enjoy some of the odour. It's not a good place for a hungry human being to be though. Also, as I remember that it's nearly headless Nick's death day, there's gonna be a very disturbing display of the headless hunt – the people who managed to get their heads chopped off completely and can now play polo with them – and he'll have a horrible band playing for his guests.”

Hermione shuddered. Her only real interaction with a ghost – if you did not count Peeves the poltergeist who was constantly around annoying people – had taken place in one of the girl's toilets. Moaning Myrtle, Mandy had explained to her later, had been living in this toilet for a long time. She wasn't really frightening. That is, if you had survived the first shock of having a ghostly face with spectacles and pigtails look at you out of a toilet bowl, she wasn't frightening. Most of the ghosts in Hogwarts weren't. The Bloody Baron made Hermione's skin crawl, but Theo insisted the guy wasn't half bad and had helped him with his homework more than once. The problem with Moaning Myrtle was that she was constantly drowning in self-pity. The ghost's crying and lamenting was absolutely insufferable if all you wanted was to use the toilet, wash your hands and go about your business again. She was a true pain and ever since that brief first encounter, Hermione had rather walked down the stairs to one of the toilets on the floor below than spend one more second with Myrtle.

On the evening of the 31st October everyone headed down to the Great Hall. It really looked magnificent. All the pumpkins had been lit. There were the ones you could sit in and have a private chat – or exchange saliva with your girlfriend if you were Cedric “the prick” Diggory – others were floating above the pupil's heads. Some of the Muggle born children looked at them anxiously. There was something disturbing about vegetables that weighed more than 10 kilos floating in the air.

When Hermione entered the hall together with a couple other Ravenclaw students, her eyes widened. Once more the beautiful decorations and the homely feeling of the Great Hall made her heart give a little jump. She heard Draco gasp quietly and knew he felt the same. Marietta Edgecombe was walking right behind them with her best friend Cho Chang. They had both been heavily involved in the preparation of this year's Samhuinn spectacle and were giggling excitedly.

The feast was great and there was food aplenty. The House Elves had really outdone themselves.  On usual school evenings, it was customary that pupils remained at their house tables but on nights like this, when celebration was in order, some movement could be noticed among the tables and so it was hardly surprising that Draco, Fred and Hermione were not only joined by Luna Lovegood but also by George, Pansy and Vincent.

Hermione looked over the latter's shoulder.

“Where's Greg?” she asked.

The two of them were such an item that seeing one of them alone had a distressing effect. Vincent shrugged and explained that Greg Goyle had a deep hatred for everything that had pumpkin in it and therefore hated the Hallowe'en feast.

“He'll be there later, though,” he added. “He's pretty good with a fire poy. One night in the year Filch won't get at him for showing off his skills.”

Indeed, what could be witnessed in the dark October night after they had all been fed, was more than stunning. Hermione had grown up in a household where Hallowe'en was mainly linked to trick or treating around the neighbour's houses – which was no fun at all if you knew your dentist-parents would later confiscate all the sweets and chocolates. She had never been part of a society that knew and cherished the more ancient rites that were linked to the passing of the crown from the summer king to the winter king and their ever-repeated fight for power.

The atrium was lit up by a huge fire in the middle. A couple of people in dark cloaks were standing among the stone pillars and held torches. There was a group of children dressed in red and led by Marietta whose wild red-brown hair reflected the firelight making her look fierce and otherworldly. They played the drums, changing and ever-changing the rhythm, turning it into a hypnotic sound.

There were other groups. The whites, the blues. A group of girls had made themselves huge black wings and danced along with the winter king. Finally the two kings – boys from fifth grade whom neither Hermione nor any of the boys knew personally – started their fight.

“One of them is definitely Muggle born,” she heard Terry Bott say. “Did you see that kick? I learnt that in my Karate lessons when I was a kid.”

At the end of the display, the students slowly made their way back to their respective Common Rooms. Hermione and Fred had just turned a corner when they ran into Harry and Ron.  Ron looked a little green-ish around the nose but Harry looked – well, like hell, although not in the unhealthy but in the mentally unstable way.

“What's going on?” Hermione enquired.

Harry nodded down the corridor.

“Does any of you hear something? A voice? A whisper?”

His eyes met Hermione's and he read her answer in them.

“Would you believe me if I told you there's something or someone in the walls and it's talking about killing?”

Fred sighed.

“Oh great.”

Hermione threw an exasperated look at him.

“Where's it coming from?” she asked.

Next thing she knew, they were running down the corridor following a voice only Harry could hear.

“Are you sure you don't have food poisoning and are imagining things?” Ron asked his friend between two gasps.

“The last time I checked, you did not get food poisoning from bad smells, let alone hallucinations,” Harry countered, rounded the next corner and skidded to a halt abruptly.

“Merlin's Beard,” Fred exclaimed.

Ron stared at the puddle on the floor, at the red writing on the wall, at the immobile cat. He sighed.

“You know I really don't like how things always happen and then it looks as we did them,”  he murmured.

 

_A./N. I took the liberty of changing the Hallowe'en procedures to a more wicca/pagan festivity. Samhuinn is in so many ways a cooler and much more magical tradition than what we usually perceive as Hallowe'en and it made sense to me that with Hogwarts being in Scotland their tradition should be based on this rather than on the modern Hallowe'en. I apologize for anything that is not properly researched. I mainly created this from my memories of the one Samhuinn festival in Edinburgh that I was happy to watch as a spectator. People who are part of the Beltane Fire Society and are reading this will probably cry in pain because I got it all wrong, but I tried my best. If this little bit made you curious, there's information aplenty on the internet and also some nice videos capturing the festivals.  
_

_Thanks to everyone who is reading this and is following me on this journey. I am glad to have a very supportive group of readers on here._

_@rae: Your comment almost made me cry. Such lovely words. Comments like yours have become so rare in the internet society which makes them incredibly precious. For me, it's very much like someone just switched the sun on on a dreary day. I am always happy if my story is able to reach people and am also glad that my depiction of the characters comes across as believable. I think Draco's struggles will be satisfactory. I've still got a lot in store for him (also, the next chapter will be all Draco so there's something to look forward to). Don't really know whether I'd call LGT a redemption story though. You have to have been on the bad side to need redemption don't you? How far on the bad side can a 12 year old boy be?_

_@FairyRave: Wow. Thank you so much! I am glad you enjoyed the story so far and hope it will keep up with expectations._

_@lady_ravenpuff2021 (and probably about 100 other readers out there): I am incredibly sorry it's taking me ages to update at the moment. I have been struggling a bit over the last month. I'm one of those people who usually burn on both ends and somehow keep juggling a million tasks at once. As soon as I get ill though, I seem to drop all the balls. I had to tune it down to the bare minimum (which was work and a little bit of private life) for a while. But after the second round of antibiotics I'm now up and running again. Which means, I might get back to updating more quickly._


	9. Sleepless Nights

** Life's Greatest Treasure – Book II  **

** Chapter 9: Sleepless Nights **

 

Someone had opened the chamber!

Draco paced the Ravenclaw Common Room. It was in the middle of the night. Despite the scare, everyone else had gone to bed at some point. The moonlight shone through the high windows and made the boy's pale skin and blonde hair look almost white. He looked like a ghost, a restless ghost, a desperate ghost. He remembered how his father had called him into his study to tell him about the Basilisk. Of course, Lucius Malfoy was not an idiot. He had not straight-out explained to his son what him and his former Death Eater friends were planning to do. He had just given Draco a book on dangerous animals and told him that it might be useful to him at some time in the future. Draco had read the chapter about Basilisks with growing terror. A giant snake that could kill you with its gaze. A giant snake whose venom was deadlier than pretty much anything else you could get on the market, be it the regular one or the black one. And immediately, Draco's head had started asking questions. First and foremost: How could anyone make sure that the monster only attacked Muggle Borns? There had to be a master, someone to whom the beast obeyed, probably the same person that could open the Chamber. He had tried to find out more about the Chamber of Secrets and had finally come across an old article in the Daily Prophet from more than a decade ago. The chamber had been opened. A pupil had died. And they had blamed Hagrid for it! He had been a student back then and already had had a thing for strange creatures. It still felt odd that anyone had believed him capable of an act of malfeasance. Hagrid did not hurt anyone unless that someone had hurt him or his friends first. 

Draco paced up and down. When he neared the fireplace for the third time, a familiar creature was standing in front of it, adding new wood to the glowing ashes.

“Draco Malfoy, Sir”, the creature said, bowing so deeply its nose hit the carpet.

“Dobby”, Draco sighed and sat down on one of the arm chairs to be able to look the House Elf in the eye without having to bend down.

“You seem restless, Sir. Is there anything I can do, Sir?”

The boy shook his head. 

“Did you see what happened in the corridor?”

Dobby shook his head.

“Dobby did not see it, Sir. Dobby just heard some other House Elves talking about it. Some of them were already servants at Hogwarts when it happened the last time. They needed a lot of butter beer to calm down.”

“Dobby, can you ask them what exactly happened the last time? Can you ask them if they know who did it? I mean, who really did it? It wasn't Hagrid. I am absolutely sure it wasn't him.”  


Dobby bowed.

“I will try to find out, Sir, but they are really badly shaken.”

Draco waved a hand.   


“Let them get some sleep and some rest and don't push it. I don't want anyone to have a nervous breakdown over this, even if it's just a House Elf.”

He rested his elbows on his knees and let his forehead sink onto his palms. Sometimes thinking was easier if you just didn't see anything.

“Sir, are you all right, Sir?”

He looked up again. Dobby looked concerned. Not only obedient, but genuinely worried. Draco knew the difference. 

“You have not managed to keep Potter away from here,” he said. “I don't blame you. He's stubborn as hell. Flying cars... crazy. But...” he took in a deep breath, “... try to make sure he doesn't get himself killed in this, okay?”

“What about Hermione Granger, Sir?” Dobby enquired, ducking a little as if he were expecting a blow. 

Draco sighed.

“I tried to make sure she's safe,” he said. “I placed a hint in one of her books. Not one of the Lockhart books, luckily.”

He had never seen Hermione treat a book with anything but love until she had unceremoniously dumped the Lockhart Books in a very dusty corner behind a sofa. 

“They aren't even worth the paper they are printed upon,” she had exclaimed and then headed straight to her Potions homework. 

After Dobby had left, Draco remained in his armchair, staring at the newly kindled fire. He hoped Hermione had found the page he had torn from his father's book. He hoped she had come to the right conclusions or would soon do so. He could not do much more without losing his father's esteem once more. But he could investigate who was the person who had opened the Chamber of Secrets this time. 

The heir of Slytherin. Did that mean a Slytherin student? Would the heir of one of the Hogwarts founders end up in any other house than in the one named after his ancestor? He did not have answers. He did not have a clue.

He was woken up by Hermione, who shook his shoulder quite violently.

“Ah, now you're reacting,” she smiled widely. “Breakfast time!”

He experimentally moved a leg, then an arm. Everything hurt. That armchair was comfy to sit in but it had not been built for sleep.

“You look horrible,” Luna stated from behind Hermione.

She was wearing a violet skirt and a mint green blouse. Her hair was tied back, but some streaks had already escaped from the band and were floating in every direction.

“He'll look worse later on,” said Hermione. “Unless he finished the homework for McGonagall last night.”

Draco cursed under his breath. The brown haired witch laughed.

“Don't worry. I will let you copy mine, if you explain that weird spell to me again which Professor Flitwick showed us the last lesson. I never seem to get it right.”

 

_A./N._

_Thanks everyone for reading again!_

_@smilesaretoxic: Thanks for understanding. I still feel bad if I don't update regularly, because I know how impatiently I have waited for WIPs to be updated._

_@Windemerald: Ummm. If you look in the "notes" part, I clearly stressed my main focus would be the plot. Also, in terms of "get on with it"... nobody ever told JKR to do that and if they did, she didn't listen to them. ;-) Unless you count Ginny's weird infatuation with Harry during book II, the first-ever thing in terms of lovey dovey teenage craze is Harry having a thing for Cho. I remember that was hinted at briefly in book 3, but JKR only really pursued it in book four. This story is plot-driven with the relationships coming into it at some point which I intend to be book III._

 

 


	10. Siwtzerland

** Life’s Greatest Treasure – Book II – Chapter 10: Switzerland **

 

“It's going to be the match of the year,” Theo said for the ump-teenth time this morning and poured some more milk into his cup.

The Great Hall was buzzing like a huge bee hive. The Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match was about to take place and as it were, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students were as excited as the other two houses. Most of Hermione's house had sided with Gryffindor, but Draco had convinced Luna that the only team worth supporting was Slytherin and so the two of them had shown up wearing top hats in the form of giant snake-heads. Hermione had overheard a conversation between Luna and Mandy and couldn't help but be a little envious of the younger girl's knack for transformation spells as Luna had told the other girl that the hats had only been dusty old top hats she had found in a strange cluttered room on the seventh floor.

“So whom are you supporting today?” Fred asked, poking her ear with his index finger. 

He was dressed all in red and gold and looked almost as nervous as his brother. The only thing that had made George drink some tea and have some bread this morning was the fact that Pansy Parkinson had strolled into the Great hall wearing a red-and-gold band in her hair. It had been a very subtle move but it had still been noted by the whole school – or at least by everyone at Hogwarts who knew George or Pansy. When Ron, always the gentleman, had made a pretty tasteless and chauvinistic remark about women and their status as pretty belongings, George and Pansy had blushed simultaneously and averted their eyes from each other for exactly two seconds. Two seconds that had been just time enough for Harry – whose loyalty to the youngest male Weasley seemed to have boundaries after all – and Ginny to punch Ron into the ribs and mute him with a muttered  _Silencio_ . While Harry tended to his bruised knuckles, Ginny just looked smug and grinned in Fred's direction.

“That's my baby sister,” the twin said with pride in his voice. “Isn't she just brilliant?”

“I like her,” Hermione said smiling. “As to the supporting, I am Switzerland.”

Fred just stared blankly at her. She rolled her eyes.

“I am neutral,” she explained pointing to her earrings.

One of them was a silver Snake, the other one a golden Lion.

“I will be shouting and cheering for the match to be as un-bloody and fair as possible,” she went on.

Fred sighed.

“You know Gryffindor against Slytherin is closer to a battle than a game, don't you?”

“I do,” Hermione replied sadly. “But I believe that things can change.”

Although, she had to admit, things only changed marginally and slowly in the Wizarding Society. Progress just didn't happen as easily as in the Muggle world. Neither in terms of new inventions, nor in terms of overcoming old prejudice.

As it was, the match was the very opposite of fair play. Of course, Quidditch was never a gentle sport and injuries happened, but usually they did not happen due to an enchanted Bludger chasing one player over the whole arena.

Hermione, Fred, Draco, Ginny and Luna had made a point out of sitting right between the Slytherin camp on the left hand side of the field and the Gryffindor camp on the right hand side of the field and all five of them were equally stricken by the incredibility of what was happening in front of their very eyes.

“Why is it always Harry?” Hermione heard Ginny's angry voice. “Why does all the shitty stuff always happen to Harry?”

“How the heck do you enchant a Bludger?” Draco fumed. “They are supposed to be locked up. And they are cross-checked by Hooch and Dumbledore himself the night before the game.”

“This would be so much more fun to watch if that ball didn't behave so weirdly,” Luna remarked. “Look, they both just spotted the Snitch!”

Theo and Harry were both excellent flyers and they chased each other across the field in a wild zigzag. Sometimes one of them was closer to their aim, then the other took a slightly sharper bend and gained a few centimeters.

“Now, little Weasle, what are you saying?” Draco grinned at Ginny. 

The redhead pouted and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Okay, I hereby admit in front of witnesses that Theodore Nott can actually fly a broom and is not a bad pick for the position of Seeker. He is still an aristocratic ass though and I still don't appreciate that he got this post by buying a set of brooms instead of winning try outs,” she added.

“Good enough,” Draco decided with a nod and held out a bag of candy so she could take one.

“Ouch, that hurt,” Fred noted, when the Bludger finally found its mark right after said mark had caught the Snitch.

“Harry,” Ginny cried when the black haired boy hit the ground hard and lay there motionless for a few seconds.

“One could think...” Fred began but stopped dead in the middle of the sentence, his face pale. “Oh Merlin, no!”

Lockhart was rushing onto the field and towards Harry. In itself this would not have been a troubling action at all but the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was holding his wand in his hand and was obviously preparing to do somethin g about Harry's broken arm.

“Quick!” Fred shouted. 

Draco had already understood the cue and was sprinting towards the field. Fred followed quickly and Hermione and Ginny were close behind. They would still have been way too slow had not George noticed his brother's behavior from his position in the air and come to the right conclusion in a split second.

The second Bludger – just a regular ball, but aimed with care – hit the Professor right on the solarplexus and knocked him flat on his back.

In the overall confusion, not many took notice of George's heroic feat. Hermione saw Professor Snape raise a brow, a half-smile playing on his usually expressionless lips before slowly turning on the spot and walking out of the stadium without a word.

“Get him to Madame Pomfrey” Professor McGonagall's authoritative voice cut through the noise. “She'll be able to fix that broken arm in no time. Mr. Potter, you should be able to walk up there alone. There are no signs of a concussion. Mr. Weasle y, you can escort your friend, just so no more strange things happen to him on the way. Madame Hooch, we should have a word.”

The stadium cleared pretty quickly and soon there were only a few student groups left.

“Anyone up for hot chocolate in the kitchen?” Fred suggested. 

Three voices answered in the affirmative. He looked around.

“Where the heck is Ginny?”

Luna shrugged.

“She walked up to the castle with Harry Potter and your brother. She seemed really upset about that injury.”

Fred frowned.

“I'm still undecided whether I find my sister's adoration for Harry Potter charming or worrying.”

“Revolting,” Draco suggested with a wink.

“Brave,” Hermione added. “I mean, hello, he is the master of almost-getting-himself-killed. She'll be a widow in no time.”

Fred shook his head and Draco laughed.

“Hermione, you were such a nice girl when you first came into this school. I think the company you keep has spoiled you for all eternity.” 

 

_ A./N.  Thanks to everyone for reading and following this story. I am lame at updating at the moment. If you walked in my shoes for a week, you'd probably understand.  I hope you don't abandon this story just because it takes the author ages to get another chapter up.  _

 

_ @Alex_theOrange: Thank you so much for your comment. It put a huge smile on my face. As it is, I don't find LGT hard to write, I have it all mapped out in my head, I just rarely find the time to actually get it typed.  _

 

_ @gakuenLME: Yay! Fremione shippers ftw! I can promise you there'll be a lot of both Fremione and Dramione in the upcoming books and I don't think you'll be disappointed in the amount of Fremione this will contain. I am not going to say what the "final pairing" will be, because that would be spoilers. As for Druna... let's wait and see, shall we? Also, I am glad you like the Fred and Draco friendship. I didn't know whether anyone would buy it because it's a highly unlikely thing to happen, but somehow it worked. After all, they have quite a few interests - and a best friend - in common. _

 

 

 

 

 


	11. The Snake

**Life’s Greatest Treasure – Book II – Chapter 11: The Snake**

 

When they entered the kitchen, they witnessed quite a curious sight. A house elf was standing in front of the hot stove and had obviously just decided to close he oven door onto his long, bony fingers.

 “What are you doing there? Stop that!” Hermione exclaimed and rushed towards the creature determined to drag it away and prevent it from harming itself.

“Dobby,” Draco murmured tonelessly.

The surprise had caught him off guard. Both Fred and Luna fixed their gazes on him.

  
“You know that elf?” Fred inquired.

“I know that elf,” Draco said, his voice firm now. “And I have absolutely no idea what he is doing in Hogwarts.”

Hermione had managed to pull the elf away from the stove. When Dobby's eyes met Draco's, the boy shot him a warning glance. He hoped that Dobby would understand that he had to play along with his charade in this. The right thing to do would be to tell the others what was going on. That the chamber had been reopened. That there was a Basilisk loose in the castle. That they needed to be careful. But if he told them they would want to know how he came by this information. And there was no way he would betray his father. There was no way he could tell them about the meeting at Malfoy Manor. It was one thing though to just keep quiet about something or to lie to the face of your best friends on earth. But he had to do it. He had to protect his family.

Dobby seemed to have understood because he started babbling something about Malfoy senior having sent him with a message and him having to punish himself because he had not been able to find Draco anywhere in the castle. Draco looked at his friends, then at the other house elves who had been standing back politely while Dobby performed his act of self injury.

“I'll hear what my father wants,” he said. “I'll be back in two minutes and I'm looking forward to the hot chocolate.”

As soon as the kitchen door closed behind them, he grabbed Dobby's wrists and examined the burns. They weren't too bad. It would hurt for a while but elves healed quickly.

“What was the reason for you injuring yourself?” he demanded to know.

Dobby bowed so deeply his pointed nose touched the dusty floor.

“Dobby tried once more to get Harry Potter out of the school, Sir. And Dobby failed.”

Draco sighed.

 “It was you who bewitched that Bludger wasn't it?”

The house elf nodded.

“Okay, listen Dobby. You don't have to kill Harry Potter to keep him safe. You did not manage to keep him away from school – which is not your fault by the way, the idea with the barrier was extremely cunning – but now he is here and I think you should protect him rather than try to bludgeon him to death, is that understood?”

“Protect Harry Potter, Sir?”

“Yes. Observe him. Tell me if he's up to doing something terminally stupid such as heroically running into the chamber to kill the monster or suchlike.”

After Dobby had disapparated - probably to go look for Harry Potter – Draco re-entered the kitchen. It looked now the way it always looked. A dozen house elves were busily preparing dinner and Fred, Hermione and Luna were sitting at a tiny table with four mugs of hot chocolate in front of them.

“Have a seat,” Luna said and took a sip from her mug. “This really tastes lovely, doesn't it?”

 

~*~*~*~

 

The next week came and went. The only distraction happened on Monday, when Professor Snape was clearly not amused. News about an exploding cauldron in a first year class made the round and was confirmed by Ginny over lunch. It had been a Slytherin student whose potion had decided to combust. Otherwise, the rumour went, Snape would probably have done worse than just have the poor fellow come to his office for detention every Tuesday for the rest of the year.

At the end of the week, notes appeared in all of the Common Rooms inviting Second and Third Year students to a dueling club. Luna decided to be a little bit annoyed about not being able to join in the fun, but took comfort in Draco telling her he’d share everything they learned with her as soon as possible.

The first meeting of the club was scheduled for the 17 th  of December. When they entered the Great Hall, it looked very different from normal. The tables had been removed to the sides and there was a stage in the middle of the room. Pupils from four houses and two years were gathered around the platform and eagerly waiting to find out who'd be leading the workshop.

“I bet it's Professor McGonagall,” Fred said, handing a sickle to his brother with a wink. “Mum said she's pretty skilled in combat, the old hag.”

Hermione's elbow found his ribs and made him gasp.

  
“She's not an old hag. She's a highly skilled woman,” the girl lectured her friend. Then she put two sickles in George's hand. “I bet it's Snape. He always wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Perhaps Dumbledore granted him this workshop as an early Christmas present.”

“Okay,” George turned to Pansy, who was standing next to him. She looked sick, her face white as a sheet, her dark hair and clothes forming a stark contrast to her waxy complexion.

“Any ideas?”

She smiled at him and added a sickle to the pile.

“Lockhart,” she said.

Sadly, Pansy won the bet. Although it was later decided that Hermione and her should share the loot as Lockhart had decided to make Snape his assistant. He announced that he and the Potions master would demonstrate how to duel before the students were to try it themselves. After Snape disarmed him with a flick of his wrist and a quick “Expelliarmus,” Lockhart looked a little disheveled but determined to keep this lesson going. He paired up Draco and Harry who weren't too happy to have been chosen as the guinea pigs and made them come onto the stage.

It could have been okay. It should have been all right. They were only students. There was nothing bad that could happen. They didn't actually know any really horrible spells. Later, Draco would admit to himself that it had been a massively bad idea to conjure up the snake. He had not thought about it. The spell had been something he'd come across with Luna a few weeks ago. They had both decided it was a pretty awesome spell and that they would try it if ever the occasion should arise. There were about two hundred eyes fixed on him. He wanted to impress these people. He wanted to make a bit of a show. Damned. He had not even expected the spell to work. When it did and the snake slithered towards Justin Finch-Fletchley, he was too unnerved to do anything about it. He was even more unnerved though when Harry Potter – of all people! – hissed at the damned animal in Parseltongue and stopped it mid-attack. All of the students who recognized it as what it was froze in terror.

“Merlin's dirty pajamas,” Fred murmured next to Hermione. “That... was unexpected.”

It wasn't until later, when they left the Great Hall, that they found time to talk properly.

“Was that... Parsel?” Hermione asked.

“Yep,” Fred nodded.

“But Parsel... it's something only dark wizards can speak, isn't it? Why does Harry know Parseltongue?”

“It's not dark magic to speak Parseltongue,” George murmured. “It's only... mainly found in dark wizards. It's not a common trait, you know.”

“Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth,” Pansy said flatly.

She looked even worse than before the lesson. Hermione made a mental note to speak to her. She had been determined to do so for a while but did not know how to breach the subject.

“But that means...”

“That means your friend Harry will have a load of explaining to do. Because everyone who knows the least bit about history will wonder whether Harry is the heir of Slytherin.”

Hermione shook her head.

“That's absurd.”

“That's what you say and that's what I think. But people will talk. The Wizarding World is small, Hermione. There's been a lot of cousins marrying cousins and everyone is somehow related to everyone else... well perhaps not everyone. It's worse in upper class circles of course because the blood purity thing runs strong in their minds.”

At that point, Pansy suddenly turned to the side, pushed through a group of students and had vanished before any of the group could react.

“Wow,” George sighed. “Brother mine, you are an example of tact and fine manners. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

“Well I only stated the facts. It's a miracle that Draco, her and some of their friends are so smart. They are practically inbred.”

George's fist collided with his brother's nose before the younger twin stormed off in a rage. Fred cautiously examined the nasal bone with his fingers while blood started streaming down his face.

“Broken,” he stated. “I love my brother. Never does anything half-heartedly. Fancy a trip to the hospital wing, Hermione?”

 

~*~*~*~

 

They came back from the hospital wing to find the whole castle in uproar. They followed the noise until they reached a corridor that was crammed with students. It didn't take them long to spot the blond long hair of Luna next to Draco's shorter style.

“What's happening here?” Fred asked.

“Nice bandage,” Draco commented the twin's plastered nose.

“Seems like there was another casualty. And Potter made a point of being right there when it happened. Then Peeves came along and made a lot of noise and now McGonagall has taken “The Boy Who Lived” aka “The Heir of Slytherin” up to Dumbledore's office.”

He didn't sound too happy although he made a point out of adding the Malfoy sneer to his words. Hermione stood on tiptoe to see what the students were looking at.

“Nearly Headless Nick,” she gasped. “What...?”

“Worse,” Luna said. “It's both Nick and Justin. So there are a lot of people saying it's Harry finishing what he started during the Dueling Club.”

“But that's...”

“Total and utter troll-bogey,” Ginny chimed in pushing her way through the students to get to them.

Ron was following her on the foot and looked a little uncomfortable to be so close to Draco. He stepped awkwardly from one foot to the other.

“So... are you coming?” the red headed girl asked.

The others looked at her blankly.

“Coming where?”

“To the Headmaster's office. I think we all agree that Harry is not the type to turn students into stone on a whim, so I propose we go there, blow up the door and tell them not to expel another innocent wizard.”

Although it wasn't the best of plans, it was the best one they had, so they followed suit.

“What did you mean with another student?” Luna asked. “Who was the first?”

Ginny shrugged.

“Well, Hagrid,” she said. “Didn't you know that?”

 

_A./N. I am absolutely flabberghasted by the amount of positive feedback I am getting for this story. Also: I promise more frequent updates in the future. I might even get back to once weekly. My life took another turn (rather a twist) two weeks ago and I am still not fully on my feet again, but guess things will be much better again. So: More time for cool stuff, like writing and drawing and finally making a cover-picture for this story. You, my readers, have managed to make me smile on some very black days lately, and I want to thank all of those who left kudos and especially those who commented. You are amazing and I love you! It's really one of the things I love about fanfiction, that you can interact with your readers and feel you actually reach people. I guess you also get that when you are Maggie Stiefvater checking her facebook, but it feels so amazing to know that people around the globe and several hours time-shift from here are reading my story and love it. <3_

_@gakuenLME and @dyslexic_penguin: "thank you it was good" is a great comment and highly appreciated :-)_

_@Firetan: Haha, I am glad you are confused about the pairings. Depending on my mood, I tend to favor one over the other, but it changes constantly._

_@Hazzapixie: I hereby declare I am not to blame for any failed exams (I hope they went well - if they did not, I have a couch you can live on).  :-)_

_@dynamite_bones: Thank you so much! I am glad it feels natural and hope it will stay like that. Also sorry about the wait you will have to endure. I hope it will be worth it in the end :-)_

_@Liz_isa_fangirl: Thank you! Comments like yours always put a smile on my face. Glad you like it and yes, I fully intend to go the whole way and write all seven books. Not going to say anything about Fred and the Battle though._

 

 

 

 


	12. The Parselmouth, the Peculiar and the Potionmaker

**Life’s Greatest Treasure – Book II – Chapter 12: The Parselmouth, the Peculiar and the Potionmaker  
**

 

Though Ginny's plan had been brave enough, it was also impossible. The twins had been summoned to the headmaster's office before, so Fred knew exactly where to go. But on their way, he remembered that there had been the weird moving staircase behind the Gargoyle – and that the Gargoyle had only let him, his brother and Professor Flitwick past, after the teacher had muttered a password. He had just opened his mouth to tell the others there might be an obstacle when Hagrid rounded a corner and almost bumped into them.

“Ah,” the groundkeeper said, when he noticed Ron and Hermione's face. “Yer on the way to Dumbledore's as well? Goin' there meself right now. What do they think ter suspect Harry of bein' the bloody heir? He's a good boy, he is.”

He looked almost as angry as Ginny. And Ginny looked very fierce indeed. If the world didn't tremble before the combined rage of these two, the world certainly had a problem.

As it were, there was no reason for the rescue mission. After they had gotten past the Gargoyle – Hagrid grunted “Sherbet Lemon” and the Gargoyle almost sprang aside – and run up the stairs and Ginny had unceremoniously burst into the headmaster's office, Dumbledore seemed a little amused to find that Harry Potter had that many supporters. He explained that he believed that Harry was innocent and let the boy leave. Harry looked slightly shaken and was suspiciously eyeing the Sorting Hat on one of the shelves and the disgusting looking phoenix-hatchling which had just emerged from a pile of dust on their way out. Apart from that, he seemed alright.

“Tea at my hut,” Hagrid suggested and they all consented.

When they were sitting around the huge table, Hagrid poured out tea and offered them cookies which were big and heavy and probably made of stone.

“It's good that Dumbledore sees things right,” Hagrid mumbled. “He's one fine teacher and one clever man, Dumbledore. Ye'll have a heck of a time though, Harry. With all the students havin' heard yer use Slytherin's tongue.”

“He used Parsel,” Luna interjected. “Parsel wasn't invented by Salazar Slytherin. He happened to speak it, but it's said he always had an accent.”

Ron stared at her bewildered.

“What?” she asked. “My father ran a feature on Slytherin in the Quibbler once. He did a lot of research to find out such things.”

Before Ron could disturb the peace by saying something nasty about Luna's father, Fred and Ginny both lashed out under the table. Wincing, he rubbed at both of his shins and sulked for the rest of the conversation.

“Anyone who seriously believes that Harry's the heir is an idiot,” Ginny declared.

“Doesn't make it less nasty,” Fred said. “But I have just the idea how to make everyone shut up.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

“Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through…” (*)

Fred and George shouldered through a group of frightened looking Gryffindor girls and escorted their charge to the Charms classroom.

“All right, Harry?” George asked with a grin.

Harry laughed and returned the twins' fistbumps.

“You are absolutely insane. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

“Mum did,” Fred said.

“Dad did,” George said simultaneously.

“Pretty much everyone did. We think it's a privilege. The fool in the tale is often the wise man, you know. Chin up, Harry. If they get too annoying just imagine them in red and white undies.”

“Or just hex them into red and white undies so everyone else can share in your experience.”

“George, I think we should develop a red and white lollipop that makes the consumer's clothes turn into red and white undies... I think there is a market for a thing like that.”

“Imagine the possibilities...”

 

~*~*~*~

 

“You don't look as if you're looking forward to going home for Christmas,” Luna said calmly.

She was perched on the window seat and had been reading a copy of the infamous Quibbler magazine. She wore a long white pullover with an elaborate pattern, a brown skirt and her usual butterbeer cork necklace. Her legs were covered with dark grey wool tights while her leather boots lay on the floor.

Draco sighed and sat down next to the blonde girl.

“Your perception is quite remarkable, Luna.”

She raised a brow.

“I thought you lived in a kind of a castle,” she went on pushing her toes against his leg teasingly. “I imagined that would be quite romantic. A castle in the snow, a warm fire... And your parents probably have the means to serve mountains of cake and pudding.”

Draco smiled at her.

“It's not like that at all,” he said. “My parents... We don't really celebrate Christmas and the Manor... well, it's just huge and grey and mostly cold.”

He shrugged.

“Don't tell this to anyone, but at the Manor, I am alone all the time. I'd rather celebrate Christmas with my friends. I am so jealous that Hermione and her parents can just go to the Weasleys and stay there for a few days. Fred actually asked me as well, whether I wanted to come, but my father would disinherit me if he found out I am friends with a Weasle.“

Luna frowned.

“What about me?” she asked.

He looked at her slightly bewildered.

“What about you?”

“Is it okay, that you are friends with me?”

Draco considered her question for a while.

  
“I guess you're not as bad as Hermione or Fred,” he said. “But you'd still not be declared decent company for the Malfoy heir.”

“That's sad,” Luna said honestly. “I'd have liked if you'd been allowed to come to my place for Boxing Day or something.”

Draco stared at her, baffled. Luna shrugged.

“Don't look so surprised. I will be spending Christmas with my dad and although he is nice enough, I wouldn't mind having you around. I mean... I never really had friends before I met you. And I still don't really know why you treat me like a normal person.”

She broke off, her voice wavering. She bit her lip. Draco felt anger rise in his chest. Someone had been nasty to Luna again. Someone had behaved like a jerk again. Why couldn't they just leave her alone? Why couldn't they see through her weirdness and notice the amazing, clever, beautiful girl she was?

“If it's any help, give me names and I'll hex them until they can't think straight anymore,” he offered.

She shook her head.

“No use, Draco,” she responded. “But thanks for the offer.”

She took his hand for a few seconds. Her slender fingers, cold and dry, rested on his. Then she jumped off the window seat.

“I'm going to get my trunk,” she said. “Back in a minute.”

It took her about five minutes in the end, but Draco did not mind waiting. They climbed out of the Common Room together, then dragged their suitcases down the stairs through the Great Hall and across the lawn towards the carriages. Draco tried to squint, to see something in front of the wagons, but could not. He felt the touch of Luna's hand on his shoulder.

“Don't wish for it!” the girl said. “Don't wish you could see them. They're not bad. They have a nasty reputation, but they are really a lot like horses. But they always remind me of my mother's death. I don't want you to ever see them Draco. Because it would mean you have to see worse things first.”

He looked at her. How could anyone on this planet be blind to Luna's glow? She was so kind and nice. Why did everyone only see her odd ways but not her beautiful soul?

He offered her his hand to help her into the carriage. She accepted it with surprise in her eyes that grew even stronger when he did not let go of her hand afterwards but held on to it for the entire journey to the train station.

 

~*~*~*~

 

“You did WHAT?” Hermione stared at Ginny as if the girl had just declared she had grown an extra set of hands.

The Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry were sitting in one of the compartments of the Hogwarts Express and were looking forward to the Christmas Holidays. Nobody had expected Ginny to drop a surprise bomb on the company though.

“I made Polyjuice Potion. It's been a long and nasty process and yes, Ron, I know it smells like poo, but it's supposed to do that. It changes colour when you add your target ingredient though.  I believe that at least one of you guys would have noticed odd behaviour in Ravenclaw – if there can be anything more odd than Cho Chang around Cedric Diggory at the moment – and one of our lot would have detected if anything were in Gryffindor. So it was down to two houses. I used Zacharias Smith's hair to get into Hufflepuff and the potion turned bright yellow and started smelling of butter. That was kind of okay. Slytherin was easy. I just used Pansy's hair. Turned the potion black and made it smell of incense. No surprise there. Surprise on another level though. She's obviously been missing classes. And she has been absent from her Common Room a lot. People were remarking on it. I also heard Theo say it the other day, but you know they speak differently when no other students can overhear them. I think you should definitely talk to her, Hermione. There's something going on there and I don't like it much.”

“Just one second,” Hermione said, holding up her hand. “Pause it there and go back to the start. You actually made Polyjuice Potion? I mean, this is really advanced magic. I could probably hardly manage to do this and you're younger than me.”

“I told you I did. And I grew up with wizards around me, so I have kind of an advantage.”

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance and shrugged, but Fred and George broke into applause.

“Ginny, you are one hell of a sister,” Fred declared.

“But, I think we should really look after Pansy,” George murmured. “I haven't seen much of her lately either”.

Hermione sighed.

“Okay, let's make a plan.”

~*~*~*~

 

* Direct quote from the canon. Belongs to JKR, not me.

 

_A./N._

_Don't throw stuff at me just because I slipped that little bit of Druna in here. I promise to stay true to my word in terms of main pairings. That doesn't mean there's not going to be side-pairings and odd things happening. This just felt right for the moment, so I went with it._

_@sagejj: Thank you so much! I am happy you enjoy the read and like the AU I created. Well, I believe there might be setups in which Draco must hate his parents, but in this case: They did not mistreat him as a child or anything. Narcissa has been a loving mother throughout this story and Lucius although he's highly prejudiced and extremely keen on the Pure Blood thing, is a father-figure nonetheless, so it wouldn't make sense here for Draco to turn his back on them._

_@dyslexic_penguin: Divine Brownie Cookies sound insanely awesome. You will love some of the things that are coming up, so I hope you've already researched means of shipping brownies to me without them being stopped in customs._

_@sydendless: Thank you for commenting! And I am glad you like the story!_


	13. Knight and Castle

**Life’s Greatest Treasure – Book II: Chapter 13 – Knight and Castle**

Hermione was excited. After they had spent Christmas at her Grandparents, they were invited to the Burrow for the period from Boxing Day to New Year's Eve and she was looking forward to having the lovely, weird, amazing family around her again. Her parents had stayed in touch with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley during the school year and had developed quite a friendship with the other couple. Their regular contact to Arthur and Molly came with the advantage that they gained some insight into the Wizarding World and knew more about what their daughter was doing and how the whole being-a-witch-thing worked.

Arthur Weasley was absolutely smitten by his new acquaintances and had taken to calling Hermione's father from the phone booth down in the village. Mr. Granger had given him an electric tooth brush for his birthday and Mr. Weasley had been delighted. He usually brought it along with him when he and Molly visited the Granger's for tea and coffee, to re-charge it as there were no sockets in the Burrow – nor was there electricity of any kind.

Bill and Charlie came to pick them up at ten in the morning. Hermione had not yet had much chance to get to know the two oldest Weasley siblings but from what she had seen, they were a lot like an older version of Fred and George.

“Dad tried to get your chimney hooked up to the floo network,” Bill greeted them with a huge smile. “But for some reason the ministry just ignored the request, so we'll have to do this differently. I guess none of you has ever done any side by side apparition, have you?”

Hermione shook her head. Her parents just stared blankly.

“All right,” Bill said. “Hermione, Mrs. Granger, if you'd both please hang on to me. Hold tight, don't let go. This is the only rule. Mr. Granger, Charlie will be taking you. There's kind of a weight limit or something. I don't know, but it usually gets messy if you try to apparate more than three people at once, hence the need for Port Keys.”

He smiled at Hermione.

“I know someone who's gonna be really happy to see you. One shouldn't think you've only not seen each other for a couple of days.”

That said, he turned on the spot and the floor got pulled away underneath Hermione's feet. She felt as if she were squeezed through a really tight hole. Also, she couldn't determine where was up, down, left and right. It was a nauseating feeling and when she found herself half a mile from the Burrow which could be seen in the distance, she fell to her knees because she did not find her orientation quickly enough.

“Hermioneeee!” someone squealed and next thing she knew, she was being hugged tightly and pulled up from the frost-covered ground into a standing position. Fred's smile reached from one ear to the other. He was panting as if he'd run the whole distance from the house to her landing place. “Wow, I am so glad you're here,” he said and then turned to her parents to greet them as well.

The Burrow was any statician's nightmare. There was no humanly possible way that the house in all its glory with all the added bits here and there should not simply topple to the ground. But magic was stronger than statics. And the warm light that shone through the windows into the winter morning felt so homely and safe. Hermione and Fred walked a few paces in front of the others, Fred sometimes nudging her side with his elbow and still smiling like a madman. Hermione smiled as well. She was happy to be here, happy to have Fred walking next to her. It felt right. It felt as if she belonged here.

Harry Potter was spending his holidays at the Burrow as well. The house was crowded. Lunch was busy and loud and fun and exhausting as Percy had taken the seat next to Hermione and kept her involved in a conversation about whether Potions or Charms was more important and whether or not she thought History of Magic a necessary subject to study. She was too polite to tell him to look for another victim, but she wished to have some time with Ginny and the twins alone.

The chance came in the afternoon, when the adults went for a walk and Ron, Harry and the older Weasley brothers went to play Quidditch with Percy as their judge. Hermione and the others stayed in the house, which was suddenly a lot quieter.

“Wonderful,” said Ginny and went into the kitchen. “Four mugs of hot chocolate?”

“You are a great and amazing being, Ginny,” said George and kissed her on the forehead on his way to the living room.

A few minutes later they had all gathered in the Weasley's living room. Ginny occupied her favourite arm chair – well, was allowed to share it with the cat, actually – George sat in a rocking chair next to the mantelpiece and Fred and Hermione had both found comfortable spots on the old plushy couch.

“So, Hermione, you mentioned you talked to Pansy?”

“I did. I sent her an owl. She replied.”

“And?”

“Well, superficially, her letter is pure denial. There's nothing wrong. She is all right. I should not worry about her. But I know Pansy. I know the way she usually writes. The letter she sent me... it just sounded wrong.”

George looked worried.

“So, what do we do?”

Hermione raised her hands.

“None of us can do much, can we? We are not the company that Pansy's parents would allow into their house.”

She smiled mischievously.

“Luckily though, one of my best friends is allowed into Pansy's house with open arms. I sent Draco instructions together with his Christmas present and told him to see what he can find out. They have been friends for pretty much forever. She might open up to him.”

George nodded.

“I never thought I'd say this, but I am happy to be able to rely on Draco Malfoy in this. I know he'd do pretty much anything for you, Hermione. You've been his friend when nobody else was.”

~*~*~*~

Dinner was over and presents had been exchanged. There had been a new toy for Mr. Weasley, a cordless screwdriver, which delighted Arthur very much and made Molly almost faint. Molly had gotten a beautiful new tea pot with matching mugs. She had knitted sweaters for everyone including Hermione's parents. Hermione had taken some time to consider what to give to Bill and Charlie. She had decided to get a Muggle book full of dragon stories for Charlie and a new earring for Bill. They both had thanked her profusely and while Charlie had curled up in one of the arm chairs with the book and kept chuckling to himself, Bill had unwrapped his new Cobra Fang Earring and wore it while playing chess against Percy. Percy had been easy. A fancy quill had made him happy. Ron had been a pain, but you couldn't do much wrong with a poster of the new Nimbus model which had not yet been released but was advertised everywhere. For Harry, she had brewed a potion that kept glass from breaking easily.

“Just bathe your glasses in it and you won't have to worry about them breaking in your next Quidditch match,” she had said and she had seen he understood what she had only added in thoughts. “Or your next fight against evil.”

For Ginny it was a Potion book. She grinned when she read the back: “For the advanced Potionmaker”.

The only one whom Hermione had not exchanged gifts with, had been Fred. If anybody had noticed, nobody said so. When they were tidying up after dinner, Molly handed the screwdriver to Hermione.

“Hermione, dear, could you please bring that to the tool shed and hide it somewhere. I am a little afraid of what might happen if Arthur decides to use this thing.”

Hermione laughed and opened the door to the garden, stepping into the cold night air. It had started to snow and a white layer covered the grass behind the house. She walked to the shed and opened the wooden door. It made a squeaking noise. The moonlight did not reach far into the room. Hermione picked up her wand.

“Lumos,” she whispered and the tip started glowing and lit up her surroundings.

“Tut, tut, put that out, will you? My mum will have you de-gnoming the garden tomorrow if she sees you do that. Underage magic. Not happening in our household. And before you start telling me they can't tell me who does it. True. But they can tell it's someone who is not of age yet. We all have a mark on us, kind of a permanent charm, that is lifted on our seventeenth birthday. I guess they won't get at us for a simple 'Lumos' especially as dad works for the Ministry, but still...”

Fred lifted a lantern that contained a flickering candle.

“This is much safer and better. Also: I brought your jacket.”

He sat the lamp down on one of the work tables and held out her coat so she could put it on.

“So... dad's grand collection. There are a few crazy things here. Some dangerous ones. And some really awesome things.”

He held up a handheld mixer. When he pushed the button, it sprang to life, without the cable being attached to any kind of source.

“Illegal as hell,” Fred carried on, walking past the shelves. “Dad would have to arrest himself for this. It's great, but it's also bad, because if this ever found its way into Muggle hands, we'd be in trouble. Look at this!”

He opened a small black case. There were three long silver tubes in it. Fred picked them up and put them together. It was a flute. It kept hanging in the air, after he pulled his hands away. He looked around, smiled and picked up a fiddle case. After he had put the bow on the strings, it also kept hovering in the air. An Irish drum – a bodhran – followed, resting mid-air after the drumstick had been placed on top of the skin.

“Oh, and wait!”

He turned around, pushed a few boxes aside and pulled out an old dusty accordion. After he had opened the button that kept the bellows closed it hovered mid-air as well. Fred's eyes gleamed.

“Play,” he said calmly.

And the instruments started playing as if there were ghostly hands handling the bow, pushing the buttons and covering the holes in the flute. And they found a tune and they merged to a small orchestra playing that tune. It was a fast jig or reel. Something traditional, that she had heard before.

Hermione stared and listened. Fred smiled and came back over to her. He took the screwdriver from her hands and put it on one of the shelves. Then he took her hands and made her twirl under his arm, then he grabbed her in ballroom hold and galloped through the shed in a quick polka. When the music faded slowly, they both stood gasping.

“I didn't want to give you this in front of the others,” Fred said and rummaged in his jacket pockets, retrieving a small parcel.

“Me neither,” Hermione said, pulling her present – which was only an envelope – out of her jeans pocket.

“You first,” they said simultaneously, shook their heads laughing, then both opened their gifts.

Under the wrapper, a small box came to light. Hermione's hands almost trembled when she opened it and found a thin silver necklace inside. Two small silver pendants hung on it. She took the necklace out of the box to have a closer look at them. A castle and a knight. She looked up and had to gulp.

“You...”

“Less obvious than initials, I thought,” Fred said shuffling his feet.

Hermione blushed.

“Let's see what this is,” he said unfolding the piece of parchment she'd given him.

A second later he drew in a breath through his teeth.

“Merlin's crooked nose, Hermione! Tickets for England vs. Ireland? The Quidditch match in summer? Are you completely mad? These are worth a fortune!”

He hesitated, then looked up.

“Please tell me the second one is because you are coming with me to see the game?”

She grinned.

"I still don't get all the house-hate in Hogwarts when it spills out onto a Quidditch field, but I like Quidditch. I'd come along if you want me to, but I'd understand if you'd rather take one of your brothers. You know,” she winked, “I get the Nationalism up to a certain point. My dad raised me on Rugby after all. So you'd have to put up with me cheering for the bloody English.”

Fred sighed, came over and pulled her into a tight hug. His voice was slightly muffled by her hair when he said:

“You know what, Hermione? I like you just enough to not give a toss that you are bloody English. I'll enjoy having you there with me.”

~*~*~*~

The days went by way too fast. Ginny and George spent about a day sulking over the fact that Hermione and Fred would go see the annual play-offs – a plan that had Molly get all fuzzy and worried when she found out, whilst Arthur's main concern was that they had decent seats.

“It's not like the kids are going to a World Championship alone,” he exclaimed. “They can floo there and back in a day and they aren't stupid. Especially Miss Granger is very much able to handle things herself. They'll be fine.”

Hermione's parents sided with Arthur and the matter was settled.

Life in the Burrow was a bit like life in a beehive. People were always buzzing here and there. They built a huge Igloo in the back yard one afternoon. Ron and Percy had a shouting match on the stairs. George and Charlie got into a fistfight over who was allowed to eat the last muffin. Ginny got lost in the attic for about four hours and insisted she had only been up there for five minutes. Afterwards, Molly got lost up there for four hours as well, retrieved an old time-piece (an heirloom of some Weasley grandfather) wrapped in a handkerchief and handed it to Bill so he could have it checked for curses or “strange magic.”

Hermione wore her necklace every day. When George had seen it, he had raised a brow, then smiled. The story about how they had fought their way through to the Philosopher's Stone – partly by playing their way over a gigantic Chess Board – was well-known but only few people knew all the details. George was one of them, because Fred was his twin and they did not have secrets. Of course Harry knew everything as well. He had been there, when Fred, playing a knight, had been beaten and dragged off the Chess Board. He had been there to finish the game as a bishop with Hermione as a castle by his side. But Harry Potter was one of the most oblivious people on this planet. If he did not just run into things or someone pointed them out to him, he didn't notice many things. Part of Hermione was happy about this; another part was wondering how many desperate and dangerous situations this boy would end up in. If you were “the boy who lived” and Voldemort was eager to take revenge on you for almost killing him, walking blindly through life was probably not the best idea.

_A./N: Thanks everyone for reading, leaving kudos and reviewing. I am deviating from the book-timeline now, so chapters will have different numbers from chapters in the book now. There's one more Christmas chapter up my sleeve (which will have Draco and Luna in it). After that, it's back to Hogwarts. In the "news section": I am turning Book I into a podfic, so if you are curious how my accent sounds, check out chapter 17 of Book I where I will be posting all the links to the audio files. Also: I lately have decided to have a tumblr dedicated to fanfiction and creative things. You can come over and talk to me there. http://juwewright.tumblr.com_

_@dyslexic_penguin: Do I get cookies now? ;-)_

_@smilesaretoxic: Thank you so much! And I am glad you liked the tiny bit of Druna I slipped in there._


	14. The Diary

Chapter 14 – The Diary

 

Draco had never been so sad on a Christmas Day. He had lived in Malfoy Manor for years on end and it had never bothered him that his parents did not give a toss about any public holiday that had been touched or adapted by the Muggle community. It had also never bothered him that you could spend days in the Manor without meeting anyone. The only time the family met was at meal times. Draco guessed that for his parents this was part of the key to a happy marriage. Lucius and Narcissa slept in separate bedrooms and had been doing so ever since Draco remembered. It was part of the aristocratic way of life though as far as he knew. Nobility did not share beds. Peasants shared beds. If you had enough space to allow for separate rooms for husband and wife to reside in, separate rooms they would have – and visit each other from time to time, if they felt like it.

After breakfast, a silent affair in the Malfoy household due to the fact that none of the family members was a chatterbox before their first coffee, he had gone up to the library to see whether Lucius had collected any new treasures. Malfoy Senior had a fondness for dangerous and forbidden objects and he liked to display them on glass shelves in the upper living room and in the library. The library might have been the only room in the whole house that Malfoy really liked. The wall-high shelves full of books and the thick carpets on the floor gave the room a homely feel even though it was almost as large as the massive stone-walled, stone-floored dining room downstairs. The scent of parchment and ink was always in the air. Dust was dancing in the morning light that fell through one of the windows. One of Narcissa's tomcats was sitting on Draco's favourite armchair and looked up with a bored expression on his face, when the boy came in. It arched its back lazily, then jumped down and padded over to him, rubbing against his legs. Draco kneeled down, picked the cat up and cradled it in his arms while he walked along the class cases, checking for new inventory.

There was a new necklace, probably cursed. The strange “hand of glory” that they had seen at Borgin and Burkes the last time he had been in Knockturn Alley. Also a locked wooden box covered in letters from a tongue he didn't know which had been burnt into the lid and sides. Intrigued, the boy looked at it for a few minutes. He had been so concentrated on the box that he only noticed the owl when it came fluttering in through one of the small owl-flaps Lucius had had installed after the Ministry had told him they would have him pay for any further bird that was injured when trying to access the Manor. The bird was a huge, brown owl, a hired animal, marked by the main Wizarding Post Office with a red ring around its left claw. It carried a small parcel. Draco immediately recognized the writing on the wrapping. He'd have recognized Hermione's neat hand anywhere.

She had sent him a book, which was hardly surprising. When he opened the wrapper, he frowned for a second. “Broom-building over the Centuries” did not sound like the most fascinating subject of all times. As it turned out later, the book was not only well-written but also contained a crazy amount of knowledge that was new even to Draco. He had not known that Broom-building was almost as complex a science as Wand-making. First of all, there were only few types of wood that could be turned into broomsticks and imbibed with the necessary spells. Use the wrong type of wood – or wood from a tree that was slightly too old or slightly too young – and the broom would go up in smoke when you tried to teach it to fly. There was a chapter covering all the injuries and fatalities that had occurred due to inferior brooms flooding the market at the beginning of the 19th century and how the Ministry had finally decided that there should be a testing centre for all the new brooms that were issued and that brooms without the official Ministry stamp were not fit to fly nor allowed to be sold on British soil. At the moment, only two broom-makers lived on the British Isles. One of them had worked for Clean Sweep for about two decades, the other one – his former apprentice – had lately been hired by Nimbus and almost instantly launched the incredibly successful Nibus 2000. There were more Broom-builders all around the Globe and one chapter covered the differences in taste and standards between the different countries. Brooms had to pass a frost-test if they were to be sold and used in Russia whilst in Egypt and Tunesia, only very few wood-types could be used as most of them tended to dry out in the desert sun, which could lead to brooms splintering or breaking.

It was a fascinating read and it kept Draco busy for the whole day. The Parkinsons had been invited for Boxing Day and he was looking forward to meeting Pansy. Hermione had sent him a letter along with the book asking him to investigate what was going on with their friend, but that was not the only reason for his eagerness to see the girl. In a way, Pansy was the only one who truly understood the extent of his dilemma. Her and perhaps Theo, although Theo was a slightly different case. The boy was the only one of the Slytherins who had voluntarily stayed in Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays. Draco sighed. He just hoped one day Theo would be able to turn his back on his father and walk away with his back straight and his eyes fixed upon a bright future that lay ahead. 

When the Parkinsons arrived, there were a very formal dinner and some formal chit-chat afterwards to get through before him and Pansy could sneak away. Was he doing well at school? How did he feel about having been sorted into the wrong house? What a shame it was that his intellect would now win house points for Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin. 

Finally they were dismissed and Draco closed the dining room door behind them with a sigh. 

“Let's go upstairs,” he suggested to Pansy who looked tired and worn and unhealthy. “I had Dobby light a fire in the library. It's gonna be cosy and warm up there. Well, as cosy and warm as it gets in this house.”

Pansy nodded and followed him. As promised, Dobby had lit a fire. Not only had the tiny house elf done that, but he had also brought up tea and biscuits and was just now pushing a second arm chair to the fire. He bowed quickly to Draco and Pansy, leaving tiny dents in the carpet where the tip of his nose had touched the floor and then vanished into thin air.

Pansy frowned.

“He's awfully polite and nice to you, Draco. I've seen him like that when he's serving your parents.” 

Draco shrugged.

“If you only kick them about they are still duty-bound to serve you and will do so. But if you treat them as if they are more than just scum, they will love you and adore you until the end of the world. Don't tell my dad. He's never figured it out and I bet he never will.”

Pansy looked at him silently and intently. Her dark eyes were huge in her narrow face. She was wearing a black woollen dress, black tights, black boots and a black lacy vest. All of the clothing betrayed that she had lost weight. And she had never been at the risk of becoming even a little chubby. Now her white fingers that had taken to caress the tom cat that had walked up to her, looked almost skeletal. A smile was playing on her red-painted lips though.

“You are different from your father, Draco,” she said calmly. “Different in a good way. I think there must be a reason why you were sorted into Ravenclaw and the reason is that you were not supposed to become a second Lucius.”

She gestured around her, taking in the whole of Malfoy Manor.

“All of this, the aristocracy, the old-fashioned ways and the ridiculous blood-purity-thing they all have in their heads, it's outdated. I love Hermione and I know you love her as well. And I have seen you around that odd girl, Luna...”

“Luna's pure-blooded.”  


“I know she's pure-blooded. So is George. But my mum would throw a fit if she knew he sent me a Christmas present.”

She pulled out a thin silver chain. There was a tiny pendant dangling from it in the shape of a cauldron and traced her fingertips over it with a smile. Draco raised a brow.

“Why a cauldron?” he asked. 

Pansy blushed, then looked around her as if she wanted to make sure that they were really alone and could not be overheard.

“I am going to kill you if you tell this to anyone. I asked George whether he could help me with Potions homework. I just don't get Snape's way of teaching and I really struggle with Potions. Not everyone is a natural like you and Hermione. So, I asked him. We met in the library. He explained... and... we kissed. There you have it. Go and laugh now.”

Draco grinned.

“I don't think it's a laughing matter. The Weasel's not a bad choice. He's smart, he's funny. And it was only a matter of time for this to happen. Don't tell me you haven't liked him for ages. And he's so obviously been drooling all over the place every time he saw you. Glad it happened. Won't tell anybody – except for Hermione and Fred that is and they will know anyway.”

Pansy giggled and hid the pendant again.

“Sometimes I wish I had been sorted into another house as well,” she said sadly. “It would make things easier.”

Draco shook his head and sipped his tea.

“It doesn't make anything easier, Pansy. My dad didn't speak to me for about a year after the glitch. It took the Ravenclaw's about as long as that to stop thinking of me as the son of a Death Eater. If it hadn't been for Hermione...”

“But you had Hermione. And she made Fred open up to you. She didn't care about the prejudices and the blood-status and whatever. She only saw you and decided she liked you despite your family, despite what everyone said. And now you have done the same thing for Luna. I would never have thought you were capable to accept someone as odd as her as your friend. You have shown to me that your heart is way bigger than anybody assumed it could be. I mean, I have known you for a long time. I know what you have done for Theo.”

The repeated mention of Luna made Draco drink his tea faster than he should have and he burnt his gum. He swallowed the burning hot liquid without batting an eyelash. There were things that Pansy did not need to know. She need not know that a while after Hermione's owl a second bird had arrived, this one a dishevelled-looking barn owl. It had carried a parcel wrapped in colourful paper and a thick envelope. The envelope had contained a piece of parchment which had been covered in script. It was the complete opposite to Hermione's neat hand. There was chaos in every word. Some of the letters leaned to the front, some were almost falling over backwards. In the middle of the page there was a huge ink-stain and at the end the writing got smaller and smaller as the writer had tried to squeeze some more lines onto the parchment. It had made him smile before he had even read a single word.

Luna had written about everything and nothing. In her usual rambling manner she had included a weather report, an accurate and detailed description of her favourite teapot and a warning against head-lice. She had also managed to rant about Rita Skeeter from The Daily Prophet whom she and her father had met during a trip to Godric's Hollow and who was truly the worst woman ever to handle a quill. The infamous reporter had written a short article about Mr. Lovegood and his Quibbler magazine which had been horrific and full of uninformed critique. 

“But let us not talk about me so much. I hope you have a pleasant Christmas, even though your family doesn't celebrate it. I sent you a present. I thought of you when I saw it in Diagon Alley so I got it for you. I met Ginny and her mother when I was there. They were shopping for Christmas presents as well and Ginny told me that there would be a huge feast at their house as the whole family would be there and Harry Potter and Hermione's family as well. Do you know what would be really amazing? If we could all celebrate Christmas together some time. I don't think Mrs Weasley would mind two – or perhaps three, if I bring dad along – more people being there. She is awfully nice.”

She had sent him a green and blue striped scarf and matching gloves. When he had put the scarf on it had felt very warm and very soft against his skin. He thought he caught a faint whiff of sandalwood, a scent which he had come to associate with Luna over the last couple of months, but that might have been his imagination coupled with the impossible wish to have her here with him.

“What are you thinking?” Pansy asked. “You just drifted off.”

“Nothing,” Draco said. “What were you saying?”  


“I said, I might need your help,” Pansy repeated, her voice down to a whisper. “I... I have something which doesn't belong to me and... I... I am scared about what was happening.”

Draco inhaled deeply. So here they were. He had not even needed to bug her about it. He had been almost sure she would eventually turn to him or Theo for help, but he was still glad she had chosen him to be her confidant. 

“I noticed something was odd,” he said. “Tell me.”  


And she told him. Told him how she had found a weird little book in one of her school books. How she had opened it, found that the pages were blank and decided to use it as a diary. She had written into it for quite a while. Spilled her heart onto its pages. And then, a few weeks later, the book had started to write back. Someone – she called it “the ghost” - had introduced himself as Tom. Tom had been a Hogwarts student as well, although it had been a while ago – he had not wanted to tell her how long ago exactly. He had been very understanding when she had told him about her problems at school. It had even helped her with her Potions homework a few times. The ghost named Tom had slowly become a friend. A silent, secret friend. Someone, who could not spill the beans about her and George, someone who would not be able to tell anyone what nasty things she thought about Professor Snape and how much she wanted his crooked nose to... Tom had been a very patient listener and an excellent advisor more than once. But then...

“I lost track of time,” Pansy explained. “At first it was only a few minutes, but suddenly, hours were missing. I remembered having been in the library writing in the journal and suddenly I found myself in a corridor on the fourth floor that I had never been in before. And then the attacks happened and... I don't know where I was, Draco! I don't know what I was doing when Mrs. Norris was attacked and when the writing on the wall appeared. I don't know where I was when that Gryffindor ghost and Justin got attacked. I remember I had been in the Great Hall at the duel and how I got angry and stormed off to write in the diary and tell Tom about it and then I remember standing in the Slytherin common room. Damned, Draco, I have no memory whatsoever of what I did when these people were turned into statues and I got scared that it had something to do with the book. I wrote in it asking Tom what was happening, but he didn't reply. So I decided to get rid of the damned thing.”

“What did you do with it?” Draco asked. 

His heart was racing. It sounded way too much as if Pansy truly had been involved in the attacks, but how could she – a mere student in second year – perform such strong magic?

“I thought about burning it, but somehow I just couldn't do it,” Pansy said sadly. “I stood in front of the fire place and tried to throw it in, but my fingers didn't open. It was quite creepy. So... I flushed it down the toilet the day before the holidays. That worked, kind of.”

“What do you mean: Kind of?”

“Well, Filch was ranting about a blocked toilet later. I guess...”

Draco sighed.

“Is it possible that Filch has the book now? That anyone else has it?”

Pansy went even whiter than she had been.

“Damned,” Draco sighed, then shook his head and stood up to walk over to his friend and pull her into a tight hug.

“The next time you feel like you need someone to talk to, come to me, will you? I can be just as discreet and quiet as that weird diary ghost and I am not half as creepy.”

Pansy nodded and sobbed.

“What do we do about the diary?” she asked.

Draco patted her head and let his fingers run through the black hair.

“You won't do anything about the diary,” he said. “I am glad you got rid of it, although it might not have been the best and safest way of getting rid of it.”

She nodded. 

“Draco?” she added. “Promise me you won't tell anyone? Not even Hermione? I mean, it's so embarrassing that I let myself be pulled in by that damned journal and...”

Draco hesitated. If he did not tell Hermione... 

He had kept the secret of the Basilisk. He had kept it, because it was his duty to his father not to betray him. But there were lives at stake and Pansy might have been used as a tool in the attacks. Her pleading eyes caught his own gaze again. She was one of his oldest friends. She had confided in him and only him. She trusted him entirely. 

“I promise,” he murmured, hating himself for it and knowing at the same time that he didn’t have a choice.

 

_ A./N.: I am only quickly posting this from work. I have moved house and don't have my own Wi-Fi yet. I hope it was wort the wait for all of you. _


	15. Trust, Terror and Truth

Returning to school was rather nice. Hermione had read a lot of books in her childhood and she was fairly sure that in Muggle culture it was not normal to be excited about getting back to classes but for wizard children it seemed different. Of course, some people – especially Pansy – were not happy at all about having to attend Potions class again. Others – Neville – were trembling in fear as soon as they even thought about Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration homework. But even though there had been strange incidents and some parents had been rather reluctant to let their children return to a school where they might be attacked and petrified, most children had been adamant about going back. 

On their first evening back in the Great Hall, Hermione had only noticed about half a dozen pupils missing. 

The reunion with Draco had been heartfelt and warm. He had actually looked for her on the Hogwarts Express – as they had not met on the platform due to Hermione running ridiculously late after delays on the Victoria line. He had been accompanied by Pansy, Luna and Theo. It had become rather crowded after all of them had squeezed into the compartment which had already been occupied by Fred, George, Ginny, Hermione, Harry and Ron. The latter had mumbled something about blasted blondes and had more or less dragged Harry out of the door. The dark-haired boy had shot Hermione an apologetic look.

The incident had taken place right after Ron – who usually ignored Hermione completely or saw her as a kind of annoying pet that he had to endure when his older brother was around – had offered her one of two chocolate frogs he had bought from the trolley. She had been rather surprised but had accepted the gift with a shrug. Perhaps there was some hope left in this world that Ronald Weasley would turn into a normal human being at some point in the near future. His behaviour towards Draco and his friends diminished that hope quite a bit again though. 

Pansy looked much better these days. She smiled much more and seemed less nervous. It was also obvious to anyone who was not blind on both eyes and deaf on both ears how infatuated she was with George. When Hermione asked Draco about what he had found out, he had avoided her eyes first. When he had looked up again, she could read sorrow in his features. 

“I promised Pansy, not to talk to anyone about what she told me during the holidays,” he said. “I am not going to break my word. I found out why she looked so horrible for a while and I think it will get better now. But please do not force me to betray a friend, Hermione. If you had been in her place, you'd have expected me to keep my word and Pansy is one of my oldest friends.”

She had nodded although she had thought that a little less nobility would have helped a long way. But yeah. This was Draco. She knew him well enough to know his decision was final.

Professor Sprout had recruited a few students – among them Neville and Anthony who both seemed to have a hand for Herbology – to tend to the mandragoras in the green houses. The ugly plants had been part of the second year's classes and Hermione and Draco both were quite happy they had not been among the chosen ones to look after them.

“Remember how it screamed when you pulled it out of the pot? And how ugly it was?” Draco said, munching a chocolate frog and watching the sun set from the window seat in the common room.

Hermione nodded and shuddered.

“Yeah. And Mandy was fussing about her hair being messed up by the earmuffs and just became unconscious when she heard the cries in their original volume. Neville says the damned things have become much uglier and are entering puberty now. They are throwing wild parties in the Green House and the next morning you come in and have to wade through ankle-deep mud and strange glue-y stuff that he doesn't know the origin of. Professor Sprout told him they will start mating soon. They climb into each other's pots and...”

Draco threw up his hands in desperation.

“Merlin's pants, Hermione! Spare me that mental image!”

The Mandragoras would, once grown-up, be useful to brew the potion that was needed to revive the petrified students. Everyone in the castle was eager for it to happen. First of all, because they felt it was horrible to be petrified and hoped the other children would be well soon, but also because they hoped that these children had seen their attacker and would be able to give some evidence. Whispers went around the school. Back in the days, when the chamber had been opened the first time, a student had died. Up to now, no permanent harm had been inflicted on anyone, but the possibility existed that it would happen again.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Soon though a new buzz became imminent in the hallways. Gilderoy Lockhart had had the magnificent idea to have some dwarfs deliver Valentine's wishes and presents on the 14 th of February. He had announced his plan one week earlier during dinner and it had been quite a sight to watch the rest of the teachers' reactions. Professor McGonagall had remained stoic but George was sure he had noticed a little sigh escaping her lips. Hagrid and Professor Sprout had beamed widely as if this were really amazing news. Snape had silently and without even blinking downed a huge cup of red wine and Flitwick had visibly covered his face with his hands and shaken his head.

As it turned out the tiny creatures whom Lockhart had chosen as his Cupid stand-ins – including little bows and arrows with hearts on them – were not at all happy about their jobs and went about their business in the most violent and rude way they could muster. One of them flattened Cho Chang in the middle of the Great hall by jumping her from behind and then recited a love-song by the Weird Sisters whilst straddling her and pulling her hair. She still blushed and later on could be seen snogging Cedric Diggory in a corner.

“Goodness,” said Hermione when she saw one choke a boy on his cravat while trying to shove a chocolate frog into his mouth. “What a splendid idea.”

Fred, Draco and Luna walked next to her. Luna managed to duck at the last minute as one of the dwarves came sailing above their heads. A few steps ahead, Percy Weasley got up from his knees, and brushed the dust from his trousers. He still held his wand.

“Ah, I guess Penelope thought it a splendid idea as well,” Fred noted. “I thought her way too clever to go with any idea of Lockhart's but then she has read all of his books... and she is dating Percy which says a lot about her sanity.”

Luna sighed.

“I think it's a nice idea. But he should have asked the house elves to do it.”

Hermione was about to protest, but hesitated when the blonde girl started to elaborate.

“I mean, these dwarves are just mean. They obviously don't like being nice. House elves live for being nice. They only want to make people happy. They would probably have enjoyed this a lot even if it meant they had to wear weird garments and carry a stupid bow and arrows.”

Draco smiled at all three of them.

“At least all of us were sane enough not to come up with an embarrassing gift or...”

Just then, a dwarf jumped down from one of the candelabras in the hallway and landed in front of them.

“Hermione Granger?” it demanded.

“Ummm, yes?” Hermione said quietly.

The gnome nodded and unfolded a piece of parchment.

“I have come to deliver a message to you.”

Hermione stared at it, then at Draco, then at Fred.

“Are you kidding me? Who of you...?”

The dwarf coughed once and then began to declare in a loud and resonating voice:

 

_Your hair is bushy as a cat's furry tail_

_Your brain is amazing and you know it all_

_Bravery and knowledge combined in one girl_

_Who walks our Hogwarts halls_

_You are a friend and a helper_

_And beautiful and sweet_

_You've been the cutest person_

_That I ever happened to meet_

 

The tiny Cupid bowed with a flourish pressed the parchment into Hermione's hand and sprinted down the hallway to find his next victim. Hermione stood frozen while at least two dozen students around them were laughing and pointing at her.

“Grand,” said Fred. “That was truly magnificent poetry. Adequate, poetic, brilliant, spot on and heartfelt. What elaborate use of words, what deep seated instinctive use of the iambic pentameter!”

“Shakespearian indeed,” Draco chimed in. “Stylistically faultless to the tiniest detail.”

Hermione felt like her legs were giving way. At once, the boys hooked her up at her elbows and steered her around the next corner and towards an empty class room. Luna shot a few really angry glances at the laughing audience and then hexed the door shut behind them.

“Let's see it!” Fred demanded stretching out his hand. “If we can find out who our new Robert Frost is, we can come up with nasty things to do to him.”  


Hermione stretched out her hand. Draco took the parchment and unfolded it before holding it out so Luna and Fred could have a look.

“Looks a little bit as if a very drunken bird walked across the page,” Luna noted.

Fred sighed deeply.

“Oh, Merlin. I will have to murder my own brother. Mum will not be happy when she finds out.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, looking up confused. “I can't believe that George...”

Fred shook his head.

“You'd have known George's hand the second you saw it, Hermione. His handwriting and mine are pretty much identical. It comes with being twins. No... this ingenious work of art was created by none other than our little Ronald. And he is going to pay for it although I will have to refrain from murder. My parents might have way too many children but they are sadly fond of all of them.”

“Ron?” Hermione asked.

“RON?” Draco gasped.

“Ronald?” Luna said with disbelief in her airy voice.

Fred shrugged.

“Yes. It comes as a bit of a surprise but you seem to have a not-so-silent-any-more admirer Hermione. And he's my brother. And he writes horrible poems. He should really never write a poem again. Or... he could write a lot of poems and we could sell them to Azkaban to be used as means of torture.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

The Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor Quidditch match was drawing near and everyone was getting excited about it. Hermione still did not grasp the extent to which the students became involved with the game, but she liked watching the glow on Draco's and Fred's cheeks when they started discussing strategies and tried to figure out which team would win from the information they had on the players.

“If they play evenly, it's going to be a Gryffindor win,” Fred said. 

He had grown quite a bit over the last couple of months and was trying to lengthen the legs of his trousers with a spell he had found in  _A Little Lore of Wand-Weaving_ while sitting on the window seat.

“Yap,” Draco nodded. “I think there's hardly anyone in the house teams who can beat Potter to the Snitch.”

Fred nodded.

“You could probably. And Theo isn't too bad a Seeker either from what I have seen. But Hufflepuff's relying on Diggory. And Diggory's currently way too busy salivating into Cho's mouth to practice his moves on the field.”

“This is probably the most disgusting thing you have said all week,” Draco stated.

“Nope. Isn't. Believe me,” Hermione said from where she was perched over an essay they had to write for Charms.

Fred waved his wand once more and the seam of his trousers just fell off with a neat “rip.”

“Oh dang it!” he muttered collecting the piece of cloth from the floor. “Once, just once, I am going to be rich enough to buy myself a pair of trousers whenever I need one.”  


Draco didn't comment on this. There had been a slightly awkward moment between them a while ago, when he had seen how short the sleeves on Fred's winter jacket had become on the boy's lanky frame and how Fred had shivered and cursed in a steady flow. Draco had offered to lend him money to get a new jacket and it had not gone well from there. Afterwards he had talked about it with Hermione and she had nodded and called it “the stupid Weasley pride.” 

Fred and George were both determined to become wealthy by their own means and their plan was progressing. They sold magic treats to students from time to time. But up to now their inventions had been mediocre and limited by their skills. The more they learned, the more ways they found to turn that knowledge into amazing things. The creativity it took to take a potion and a charm and combine them into self-igniting ink was just brilliant. 

Sadly, Hermione had been one of the first people to become a “test candidate” for said ink – leading to a potion homework lighting up under her quill and burning to ashes. One of the others had been Harry Potter who had almost burnt down the classroom after he had spilled the whole ink pot over his books in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

 

~*~*~*~

 

On the morning of the match, Hermione, Fred and Draco had joined George at the Gryffindor table. This was mainly a means to make it possible for Pansy and the Slytherins to join them as well. If the pattern was broken up, it was easier to disrupt it a little more.

Pansy looked strained again and didn't eat much. After three bites of toast she suddenly got up and left the Great Hall without so much as a word to George who seemed genuinely worried about her.

A few minutes later, Harry let his spoon fall into his bowl of cereal, his face white as a sheet.

“Please don't tell me there's a stomach bug going around,” Fred commented. 

“What is it, Harry?” Ron and Hermione asked simultaneously. 

Ron blushed. Hermione thought that it had been much easier when Ron had not been interested in girls in general and her in particular. The boy had even stopped sneering at Draco. It was truly disturbing.

Harry tried to massage his forehead.

“I … I am hearing it again? Why the hell am I always the only one who can hear it?”

"What are you hearing?” Hermione enquired.

“A voice,” Harry replied. “It's talking about killing people. It's the same voice I have heard before. It seems to be in the walls.”

Hermione stood up with one fluid motion. An idea had come to her mind.

“I have to go get a book,” she said. “And I also might have to go check something in the library. I will see you at the match.”

But there was no match.

The game had only started ten minutes ago – and Fred, Draco and Luna had cast more than one glance towards the entrance to the arena to see whether Hermione would appear – when Professor McGonagall signalled for Madame Hooch to interrupt it. She announced in a severe voice that there had been another attack and that all students should make their way to the castle and follow their Prefects to the common rooms.

When the three Ravenclaws walked down the stairs, Professor Flitwick came rushing towards them.

“Please, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy... I think you both should stay for a moment.”

Draco's heart stopped beating for a second.

“Oh, please no,” he murmured.

“Should I stay as well?” Luna asked calmly. 

Professor Flitwick was about to answer in the negative when both Fred and Draco nodded.

“Please do,” they said.

A minute later they were standing on the Quidditch field together with the rest of the Weasleys and Harry who was still wearing his Quidditch attire. Professor McGonagall waved dismissively at her colleague and Flitwick set off towards the castle. 

“I am very sorry to inform you that something has happened again,” she said. “There were two victims this time and I deemed it right to inform you before you heard it from anyone else. Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley have been attacked and are now in the Hospital wing. Both of them have been petrified in the same way that other students were petrified before. They will be all right again as soon as the Mandragoras can be used, Professor Sprout informs me, but...”

“I want to see her.”

That was George's voice being pressed through clenched teeth.

“I want to see Ginny. I want to see she's going to be all right.”

Professor McGonagall nodded.

“I understand, Mr. Weasley. But she won't be able to hear you. None of the petrified students has any means of perceiving the world around them in their current state.”

“I'm going up to the hospital wing,” George said firmly.

“Me too,” said Fred. 

He looked shaken and Draco understood that of all the people here, Fred had received the hardest blow. Ron looked pretty battered as well, but it was Fred whose best friend and little sister were up there. When the twin looked up and met his eyes, Draco just nodded firmly.

 

~*~*~*~

 

He had not been prepared for the sight in front of him. Hermione's limp form, her open, unseeing eyes, her almost waxen skin. The weird way in which she held her fingers. It was surreal.

“She was holding a mirror,” Madame Pomfrey had explained. “They were walking next to each other and Miss Granger was holding a mirror. I can't say much more about the circumstances.”

Draco and Fred were the last of the party still in the Hospital Wing. The others had left and retreated to their common rooms. But Fred had not stirred and neither had Draco. In his head, a fight had been going on. A fight which – finally had reached its conclusion. Yes, he owed his family his loyalty. But Hermione was his best friend. She had been at his side when nobody else had. She had stood by him when his father had turned his back on him. He owed her the truth and just in this moment he really hated his father and his whole bunch of horrible friends.

He made sure Madame Pomfrey was out of earshot and then said in a low voice.

“I have to tell you something, Fred. It's not going to be nice and you are allowed to hit me in the face for it if you want to, but I have to tell you something.”

A quarter of an hour later, Draco was nursing a nosebleed and Fred was pacing up and down in front of Hermione's bed.

“I can't believe you did not tell Hermione!” he whispered intently. “I can't believe you did not warn her.”  


“I warned her,” Draco said. “I made sure she would find the information she needed to survive an encounter with the basilisk. You know that people usually don't just freeze when they encounter one, do you? They die, Fred. Basilisks can kill you with their sight and they can kill you with their fangs as well. They are very, very deadly indeed and it's a wonder that nobody lost their lives up to now. That annoying Gryffindor boy only saw the beast through his camera. Justin saw it through nearly-headless Nick and Nick himself could hardly become any more dead than he already is. The cat got petrified because she did not see the basilisk but only it's reflection in the puddle and Hermione and Ginny...”

"...were carrying a mirror because Hermione had finally come to the right conclusion,” Fred said, pulling a note from Hermione's fingers and unfolding it. 

“This the page you ripped out of that book?” the older boy asked.

Draco nodded. 

“You know Hermione would never rip anything out of a book.”

“So. What do we do now?”

“We do what Hermione would have done,” Draco said, standing up. “We go to the library and find out where the Chamber is.”

Fred hesitated, then pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket. Tapping it with his wand he murmured.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Ink outlines appeared on the parchment and a few seconds later, a map of Hogwarts and the castle grounds lay before them. For each and every student there was a tiny dot on it. Some of the dots moved but most were stationary in the common rooms of all four houses. Fred knew the Marauder's map quite well. He knew that, although it covered all secret passageways around the castle, the Chamber of Secrets had not been known by the creators of this map. Or rather the location of the chamber had not been known to them. Fred and his brother had been in every single room that showed up on the map during their first year at Hogwarts. There were a few strange places and a very narrow passage that led to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. There had also been one room that had appeared and vanished from time to time and had always looked differently when they had entered it. Once, it had been a potions-lab, once it had been a bedchamber and once – Fred remembered all too clearly – it had been a very ancient-looking bathroom with a huge throne-like toilet in one corner.

His eye got caught by some movement at the lower border of the map. The next moment, he heaved a sigh.

“Of course.”

Draco had been staring at the map with excitement and disbelief and looked up.

“What is it?”

Fred pointed at two tiny dots that were moving towards the castle.

"McGonagall and Dumbledore tell everybody to go to their Common Rooms. Who doesn't follow suit but visits the caretaker instead because that is just what you do when someone you know quite well – like your sister, or the girl you fancy, or your best friend's sister, or the girl who saved your ass from you-know-who and from nasty students – has been attacked by a damned Basilisk? My little brother and Potter-the-tosspot.”

He let the map sink, Folded it and put it back into his pocket whilst already half way to the door.

“Change of plans,” he declared. “First, get Ron and Harry and shove a wand up their noses until they tell me why they ran off to Hagrid's hut of all places and then go to the library and find out where the Basilisk is and how we can kill it.”

 

 

 

_ A.N.: I finally have internet in my new flat and am connected to the world again. I am old enough to have grown up without the internet so I can manage without, but it is my main means of communication and it sucks not to be able to talk to your best friend for about a month because the phone company doesn't get their job done.  _

 

_ @dyslexic_penquin: I was looking forward to what your reaction would be when the chapter came up after that long silence. I am not 100% sure whether your cry was heard over the atlantic ocean. My colleague's dog tends to bark wildly at nothing all the time, so you can hardly tell. _

 

_ @Starfire_KTreva: You absolutely awesome and crazy human being! I am so glad you enjoyed the story so far and I am chuffed you actually went and read almost all of my other stuff as well (and also commented everywhere). Thank you so much! You really made my day. I told about everyone I met and who can even remotely relate to Harry Potter and fanfiction-writing that I got a super-nice person commenting on my stuff. Also, yeah, Ron... I don't know. I didn't really hate him in the books or the movies or anything but in my stories, he always comes across as a bit of a jerk. Perhaps it's an unconscious dislike I was harbouring for a long time. He's not going to stay a complete git though. People are supposed to become a little wiser when growing up, aren't they?  _

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16: Spiders and Ghosts

It turned out it wasn't necessary to shove a wand up anyone's nose. Harry and Ron were all too happy to explain what had happened in Hagrid's hut and what the gamekeeper had told them.

“Follow the spiders ?” Draco repeated, raising a brow. “Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Hagrid, but he's never been one of the brightest guys. And he's terrified of Azkaban – who wouldn't be? So... is it possible he just snapped and started babbling nonsense?”

Harry shook his head.

“Seemed sane enough to me.”

“Which is not really an argument coming from someone who just constantly jumps head-first into the next puddle of mortal danger,” Fred commented and shrugged. “But granted, if Hagrid went insane, he'd probably start telling everyone the recipe for his rock-cookies. I don't know whether the spiders will be of any help though. Draco and I found something in Hermione's hand.”

He unrolled the parchment and showed it to the two Gryffindors. Draco felt a weight being lifted off his chest. He had half-expected the twin to tell the two boys the whole story, explain how Draco had kept information from them to protect his family. The fact that Fred did not deem it necessary for his younger brother and Harry to be informed as to the exact way he had come by the information he had, left quite an impression on Draco. He had liked the boy before. But he had never really seen him as a friend. 

Fred didn't know anything about Pansy yet though. If he could keep her out of this, he would. And up to now there was no reason to get her involved in this. She had gotten rid of the diary ages ago. 

“So we have a Basilisk wreaking havoc in the castle,” Ron summed the situation up as they made their way to the kitchen, the only place that they could sit down and talk in together without arousing suspicion or running into Filch. 

Fred kept a close eye on the Marauder's map and had cast an alarm-charm a few feet in front of them so they would not accidentally come across Mrs Norris either when they turned a corner. He only nodded. The charm and the map needed so much attention that he needed everything he had left to not fall over while walking.

Draco swallowed the “wise-ass” that had almost slipped off his tongue and hoped there would not be any more situations in his future where he depended on the help of Ronald Weasley, because that might well end with either blood shed or insanity.

The house-elves greeted them enthusiastically if slightly bewildered as to the late hour of their arrival. Dobby served them mugs of hot chocolate and seemed more than delighted to have “Harry Potter, Sir” and “Draco Malfoy, Master” at one table. In his little elf-head he'd probably already come to the conclusion that they were best friends forever. Or worse, if his winking and the fact that he handed them matching heart-shaped cookies , while Fred and Ron got plain round ones, was anything to go by.

Their meeting lasted about half an hour. It was decided that Fred and Draco would be the research team and work their way through the library to gather every bit of information about Basilisks and the Chamber of Secrets they were able to find whilst Harry and Ron would make their way into the woods and look for Hagrid's spiders. 

The latter task, it turned out, would become slightly harder than expected as – on their way to the Gryffindor tower – the two boys walked straight into Professor McGonagall who was not amused at all, did not want to hear any explanations and gave them detention for the rest of the week.

 

~*~*~*~

 

The library was a place of peace. At least it had always been that to both Fred and Draco. But it had also been Hermione's place. If the witch isn't there, go to the library, chances are you'll find her there. The absence of their best friend seemed to be stronger between the huge bookshelves that meant so much to her. Draco fidgeted nervously and kept licking his fingers when turning pages, a habit he usually only indulged when he was writing a really nasty Transfiguration homework.

“Nothing,” he moaned after about two hours of pulling books out of shelves and writing down notes with a battered quill that seemed to mirror his state of mind , as did his clothing. 

Usually, Draco was dapper. His shirt was always neatly tucked in, his trousers were neatly ironed and never showed a stain. His hair was always parted perfectly at the side and his tie was never knotted in anything but a perfect Windsor knot. Now, there was an ink-splotch on his trousers. His shirt-sleeves were rolled up, the shirt hung out at the back , and his hair was in a state of disarray as he had taken to running his hands through it in desperation. As for the tie, he had pulled that off with an exasperated groan about half an hour ago.

“I am giving up,” the blonde boy declared closing the last book he had been reading with an audible THUMP that made Madame Pince look up and shoot a warning glance at them.

“We've been doing this for a full week now. And neither have we found any new information on Basilisks that would be worth it – yes I know we found a recipe of how to cook them, but there was no instruction on how to kill them before that – nor have we come across anything on how to get to the damned chamber. There must be blueprints of the castle somewhere, but they are probably locked in Dumbledore's vault at Gringotts for all that we know.”

Fred had tried to keep their spirits up for the last couple of days, but he had to admit that Draco had a point. Their research had led to nothing. It was rather disappointing. He just hoped Harry and Ron would come back with some kind of a clue. The boys had finally managed to escape to the woods this afternoon and would probably be back for dinner.

“Okay,” Fred declared and pushed the book he'd been perusing back onto the shelf. “Let's face it. All we can do is spend more time getting frustrated. Or we can go back to the common room and wait there, or you can go up to the Hospital Wing and sit next to Hermione who doesn't know you're there.”

He had not intended to be nasty and he bit his lip when he saw Draco's expression change. Damned, Weasley, why do you have to be such an idiot?  Draco shrugged, got up from his chair and looked up with a smile that didn't quite reach the eyes.

“I think we both know that the only reason why you can nag me about this is, that you are up there almost as often as I am,” he replied. 

He was out of the library in a second and Fred balled his fists and let out a loud and adamant stream of curses before rushing out after him.

“Look, I am sorry,” he said panting when he caught up to Draco in front of the entrance to the Common Room. “I am sorry. I am an idiot. And I am not going to let you be angry at me, because we are the two people who care about Hermione most and she'd not want us to argue.”

Draco hesitated, then clasped Fred's outstretched hand and nodded.

“I guess we're both a little beside ourselves at the moment,” he declared. “Let's go grab a few chocolate frogs and have Luna tell us about the newest creature her dad invented for the Quibbler.”

Fred grinned.

“Also, let's raise a toast to Harry and to Ron, my brother, who has suffered from arachnophobia ever since Ginny sat a spider on his nose when he was sleeping. He will probably pee in his pants during their excursion.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

“So, there was a murder last time.”

“Yes.”

“And it happened in the castle.”

“Yes. A girl was killed in one of the bathrooms... oh.”

Harry's expression became baffled. Draco assumed this was how Harry looked when he noticed something. It didn't happen often, so he wasn't entirely sure.

“What is it ?” Fred enquired.

“I... do you think it's possible that... that the girl is still...”

“Oh my God, please no,” exclaimed Fred. “Don't tell me we will have to interrogate Moaning Myrtle.” Harry shrugged.

“As I don't have a better idea, yeah. It's a place to start after all.”

Fred sighed.

“There's only one problem ,” he said. “It's a girl's bathroom. And it's frequented quite a bit during the day. We'll have issues getting in there without all hell breaking loose.”

 

It turned out, all hell broke loose without them doing anything to make it so.

Draco was just on his way to afternoon classes, when Professor McGonagall's bodiless voice echoed through the hallways.

“All teachers report to the staff room immediately!”

It sounded urgent. He had never heard an announcement like this before. Usually, teachers employed quieter modes of communication. This had to be the fastest method to reach everyone involved – but it wasn't very subtle.

Draco turned a corner, used a shortcut through a classroom and made his way in the direction of the staff room. He wasn't surprised to bump into Fred, George, Harry, and Ron on the way. Fred had the map out again and was leading them safely into a broom cupboard. 

He pointed to the back wall and whispered: “The staff room is right there.”

“But how... ?” began Harry, but George had already pulled out two balls of what looked like sticky pink play-do out of his pocket. He whipped his wand to divide one of them in three and one of them in two parts.

“Don't know if they work as well when they are smaller. But it should be sufficient,” he murmured and distributed the wobbly stuff.

He rolled his part into a ball again, then stuck it on the wall and put his ear against it. A grin appeared on his face and he gave his brother a thumps up. 

“Works all right, Fred.”

The others followed his example and to Draco's astonishment he could hear clearly what was going on next door as soon as his ear touched the material. He could hear muffled voices, the scuffing of feet. Finally, Minerva McGonagall spoke up.

“Silence, please. The headmaster and I have summoned you here because there has been another incident. But this time...” she took a deep breath as if to steady herself, “this time, a girl was taken.”

The listeners in the broom cupboard exchanged a glance. 

“We have to fear the worst,” Dumbledore took over from his second-in-command. “There was another inscription on the wall implying we would never be able to retrieve the victim and that her bones would forever lie in the Chamber of Secrets. I think, it is time to take measures. We have refrained from closing Hogwarts down, but this new turn of events doesn't leave us any other choice. Please inform your houses that the Hogwarts Express will leave tomorrow morning and that everybody should pack their bags. I will see to it that all parents will be informed.”

“Who was it?” Snape's nasal voice inquired. “Who was the victim?”

Again, it was McGonagall who answered.

“It was one of your pupils, Severus, a Slytherin.”

A few noises of surprise were heard from the bystanders.

“It seems as if the heir of Slytherin is not interested in sparing his own”, the deputy headmaster went on. “Severus, please join me in my office. We will have to inform Pansy Parkinson's parents immediately.”

A door was opened and someone entered the staff room.

“I am so sorry, I am late,” Gilderoy Lockhart exclaimed. “What did I miss?”

“I am so glad you are here.”

Snape's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“I think this is right up your alley, Gilderoy. It seems like one of my students has been abducted and taken to the Chamber of Secrets. The heir of Slytherin is threatening to kill her. I guess that's not a problem, but a challenge, for someone with your reputation.”

All of the boys in the cupboard pulled back their heads from the pink gum at the same time.

“We have to tell him,” Harry declared matter-of-factly. “We have to go to Lockhart and give him all the information we have.”

“Yes,” Draco said. 

He felt sick. His eyes met George's. The twin looked even worse than he felt.

“We have to get her back,” the red-head murmured. “We have to save Pansy.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

“Professor Lockhart !” George bellowed, hammering against the door to the teacher's office. “We have to talk to you! Immediately!”

The door was opened just about an inch and Lockhart's face appeared in the opening.

“Oh, it's you, boys. Umm... well... would bid you come in, but I am just... arranging things... busy, you know... so sorry.”   


Draco didn't have any of that. He pushed the door open and strode into the office. The place was a mess. Clothes, potion ingredients, books, a basket with a weird huffing animal in it. Everything was strewn about the room. And in the middle sat a huge opened trunk.

George turned to Lockhart, his eyes furious, his voice calm.

“What are you doing?”

Lockhart knew a dangerous situation when he saw one.

“I am... just...”

“Are you packing ?” George exclaimed whipping out his wand and shoving it against Lockhart's throat. 

“Well... yes... important business,” whimpered Lockhart quietly.

“You were asked to save a girl from the Chamber of Secrets,” Draco said calmly, while Fred let his fingers rest on George's shoulder to keep his brother from killing the teacher on the spot.

“We came here to provide some information that might be useful to your cause.”

“Well... er...”

“You are bailing, aren't you ?” George's eyes filled with tears of anger. “That  _ thing _ abducted my girlfriend and is threatening to kill you and you, as our Defense against the Dark Arts teacher are  _ bailing _ ?”

He poked Lockhart's throat with his wand and the teacher staggered a few steps backward.

“It looks rather like you're running away ,” Fred chimed in and pointed at the trunk. “But perhaps you can explain this?”

It turned out, Lockhart could explain it. All of his books, all of his adventures were nothing more than stories and heroic tales he had stolen from other witches and wizards. He had a knack for obliviation charms. Apart from that he was mediocre at best. He had taken other people's deeds and made them his and had kept their glory. It was disgusting. Just after telling them about the obliviation charm, he made an attempt to peruse just such a charm on all of them, but for once, Harry was quick and whipped his wand out of his hand with a scream of “Expelliarmus.”

“You sad excuse of a wizard. You cowardly little toad,” Draco said with a snarl.

By now all of their wands were pointed at the wizard.

“I think I have an excellent idea. You will come with us. You will accompany us into the Chamber of Secrets.  And perhaps you will get a chance to really be one of the heroes this time.”

They made their way to Myrtle's bathroom. Lockhart fidgeted, but did not attempt to flee. He had seen that Harry was quick with a wand and he saw the rage boiling in both Draco's and George's eyes.

When they came in, the room was flooded ankle-deep.

“Oh brilliant,” said Harry and then raised his voice. “Myrtle? Are you here?”

She zoomed out of one of the toilet cubicles, obviously more than delighted to see Harry. Draco couldn't help but have a momentary inner giggle about that.

“Hello Harry,” she said. “I was just having a bit of a splash. Ohhhh you brought friends.”

She eyed them one after the other.

“Double-headed friends,” she said to the Weasley twins.

“Ron-friends,” she noted.

“Weird friends with a horrible taste in clothing,” she murmured with a glance at Lockhart.

“Handsome friends,” she exclaimed looking directly at Draco. 

The silent giggle died.

“Myrtle, we need your help !” Harry said calmly. “We... I know this is kind of a horrible question to ask and I am very sorry if I hurt your feelings with this but... we really need to know how you... how you died.”

Her reaction was different from what they expected. She gave out a delighted squeak, zoomed down and hovered right in front of them.

“Nobody has ever asked me that,” she said with a smile and wide eyes. “And it's such a great story. I was in one of the cubicles, minding my own business. I had been crying because one of the girls made fun of my glasses. And then... it happened! There was noise outside, as if someone was banging against the door of my cubicle and I told them, there's plenty of empty cubicles, leave me alone. But they kept on banging. So I opened the door and... there were two huge eyes... and then I … was dead. Wooosh. Just like that.”

So she was the girl who had been murdered by the Basilisk. There was no doubt left.

“The eyes, Myrtle, where did you see them ?” Ron asked. 

She pointed at the sink.

“Right there. Opposite the third cubicle.”

“Thank you so much,” Harry exclaimed and ran over to where she had pointed, followed by George and Draco. Fred remained standing where he was, holding his wand to Lockhart's head. Draco found the weird-looking tap first. The other taps were just plain, but the one across from Myrtle's cubicle of death was carved into the form of a tiny snake.

“This is it,” he said, pointing it out to Harry. “Bet you have to speak Parsel to get it to do anything. Would never have thought I'd ever be glad to know you, but this is the point where you come in handy, Potter.”

Harry looked insecure.

“What should I say?”

Draco groaned. Sometimes that boy was just way too dim-witted to be true.

“I don't know. It's a kind of door? Tell it to open.”

Harry stared at the Snake for about half a minute, his forehead wrinkled in concentration.  Then, a hiss escaped his lips and the metal snakes seemed to come to live and the sink moved forward and sideways revealing a large pipe that led downwards.

“Oh lovely,” Draco commented, before – without even a second of hesitation – he jumped in.

  
  
_ A.N.: I am so sorry it took me about a decade to get this chapter done. I think I mentioned I moved. So settling in in a new environment always takes a while for me and I had to get a lot of things organized. Then I was sick for about a week before Christmas (not fun). Christmas itself was slightly stressful due to extended family being there. But the days after were great as I spent some time with my best friend and had another friend come over. The only thing that is really my fault and which distracted me from writing for a while is my new and profound obsession with RebelCaptain fanfiction. If you should be as obsessed with Rogue One as I am, give me a shout and I can give you recommendations for amazingly written stories. Also, there’s only like 2 or 3 chapters left in this book and I am looking forward to starting book 3… and if it’s just because I absolutely love Remus and Sirius. _


	17. Tom Marvolo Riddle

** Chapter 17: Tom Marvolo Riddle **

 

They made their way down a wide waterpipe. Draco went first, then Lockhart, under the close supervision and at the tip of the wands of Ron and George. Fred and Harry followed close behind. The light emanating from their wands only lightened the pipe up for a couple of feet ahead. It was just high enough that the twins and Draco could walk upright in it. Ron had to stoop a little whilst Harry didn't even look concerned he might bump his head. Lockhart's magnificent hairdo scraped the ceiling although he walked with a bit of a hunch.

“Boys, this is really unnecessary. I mean... what do you think you will find...”

He stopped because something had appeared in front of them. It was huge, and scaled and... dead. Draco walked up to it and bent down. It looked like snake-skin, just thicker. It had a silver sheen to it and when he touched it, it was very brittle.

“I think we just discovered what Basilisk skin looks like,” he declared.

“And we also discovered how bloody big that beast is,” Fred added sullenly. “That's a lot of skin which probably covered a lot of snake.”

“As I said to you boys, this thing is way too big for you. You should just turn back and...”

“Merlin's wet underpants, does anyone know a spell that makes him shut up?” George asked, poking the teacher with his wand. 

Fred rummaged around in his pockets.

“Nothing comes to mind, but I had Flobberworm-dung somewhere.”

Draco stared at him.

“Why the... no, I just decided I don't want to know. But I think it's a bad idea to gag him. He might after all be useful.”

The Weasley boys stared at him as if he had lost his mind.

“He's right,” came Harry's voice as unexpected support from the side. “He might be a fraud, but he knows more spells than we do. He might be helpful.”

“He's a bloody nuisance, he is,” mumbled Ron under his breath. 

They carried on past the Basilisk-skin (which really was enormously big) and went further down the pipe which had begun to slope down a little. It finally ended in front of a solid wall. Silver glittering serpents were engraved upon it.

“Oh wonderful,” smiled Lockhart. “A dead end.”

Draco shook his head.

“Not for us.”

He nodded towards Harry.

“Do your thing, Potter!”

Harry walked up to the door and touched one of the snakes with his fingers. Then started to hiss.

For a second, George's and Ron's attention wavered. It was only that one second that Lockhart needed. He spun, snatched Ron’s wand, pointed it at him and his brothers and shouted “Obliviate!”

Then, the pipe burst and stones and loose earth rained down. Draco managed to lie flat on the ground and cover his head to avoid any bad injuries that might be caused by the bigger stones in the rubble. When the noise stopped, he lifted his wand again and whispered “Lumos” in the total darkness around him.

Harry was there, standing in front of the still closed entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, obviously interrupted in his Parsel-enchantment. He stared at the pile of dirt that now cut off their way back.

“Damned,” they heard someone cursing from the other side of the rubble. Fred or George. No way to tell by just the voice.

“Are you all right?” Draco shouted.

“Yeah, yeah... wait a second. Two hands, two feet, one head. I am whole and healthy as is Fred.”

“Ron is unconscious,” Fred stated from slightly further to the right. “Hit by one of the stones. Bleeds, but not badly. He'll live.”

“What's...” Harry started to inquire after Professor Lockhart's health – on reflex rather than sympathy, Draco reckoned.

“Oh hello. Did we meet before? I am Gilderoy, and you are?”

“I guess... Ron, your wand looks a bit... let me have that, Gilderoy. Thank you.”

“I think the spell backfired. He obliviated himself. Are you still at that door?”

“Yes we are.”

“Go through. Every minute counts. We'll be fine. We'll clear this mess up so you can get out of there. Or we can come through and help you fight that huge beast. Break a leg!”

Draco nodded towards Harry.

“Go on, Potter! Guess we're the heroes in this one... or food for the snake.”

His jaw tightened. Pansy was in there. And he was going to get her out alive. His father had believed that pure blood children would be safe. But nobody was safe from this beast. He listened to the hissing sounds, inhuman and wild, that escaped Harry's lips. The snakes on the wall began to writhe and a gap opened, just wide enough to step through into a huge pillared hall. Damned, why was it always Harry Potter who walked into the worst trouble there was? And how had he ended up being the boy who walked into it right behind him?

~*~*~*~

 

At a closer look, they weren't pillars. The hall was lined with huge stone serpents. The isle between them led up to something that looked very much like an altar. Draco would have known the face carved in the stone in his sleep. The features of Salazar Slytherin looked merciless and cruel. Draco's eyes followed the beard of the Hogwarts founder down to where it met the floor. A small black pile lay there, motionless. Long dark hair protruded from it. Pansy.

He didn't think. His legs moved of their own accord, carried him past the serpents and towards the unconscious girl. He fell to his knees next to her. Her face was very pale. 

Harry approached right behind him and also kneeled down.

“Is she alive?” the Gryffindor boy panted.

Draco shuddered.

“I don't know... can...” he cleared his throat. “Can you check, please?”  


He knew it should have been him taking her hand and feeling the pulse in her wrist. It should have been him making sure his friend would survive. But he was too afraid he might find he was too late, might find that she was dead.

Harry sighed with relief.

“She's alive,” he stated.

“And so she will be for a little while longer,” another voice, light, a little arrogant, not at all unpleasant, chimed in.

Draco and Harry looked up. There was another boy standing a few feet away from them. He was dressed in Hogwarts robes. His pale features were surrounded by short raven black hair. His eyes were fixed on Pansy. His posture was relaxed. How could this guy be relaxed when there was a girl lying unconscious on the ground? Why wasn't he helping?

“Tom!” Harry exclaimed, as if greeting an old friend. “Can you... come here and help us! Help her!”

Draco stared at the Gryffindor. How did he know this guy? And also: That Tom was wearing Slytherin robes! And Draco was one hundred percent sure he knew everyone in Slytherin. They had all been guests at his father's house at least once.

“Her heartbeat is slowing,” Tom said. 

There was no concern in his voice. It was just a statement.

“Yes it is, you bloody moron! And you are standing there doing nothing. Stop being a wise ass and help us!” Draco hissed, drawing his wand.

“Oh,” a flick of the wrist, both Draco's and Harry's wand flew toward the weird boy. He snatched them out of the air nonchalantly.

“I am afraid I can't do that,” Tom said with a smile. “You see, the weaker she gets, the stronger I become. I would have preferred a stronger one. I would have preferred you, Harry. I did not know who it would be though. Nobody knew. She found the diary. I still don't know how she got it. She poured her heart into it. Page after page after page about her love and how she could never admit to her parents she liked a blood traitor's son and how he was so sweet to her and how she wished for things to be different, how she wished SHE was different. All that crap a girl that age will write into a diary. It was tedious and annoying. When I first answered her, she was afraid. But then, I entranced her, and I became her ally. I was her secret friend. The one whom she could always talk to without being afraid he'd tell anyone else about her little secrets. She did not notice when I first took possession of her. She opened the chamber for me. I got away with having her call the Basilisk a few times, but then she became suspicious.”

He walked towards them. Draco wanted to move, wanted to jump and tackle the atrocious boy. He wasn't even sure Tom was a boy. He seemed... faint. A little bit like the ghosts that roamed the Halls of Hogwarts but... different, darker. He smiled again and Draco noticed he couldn't move a muscle. Damned, that boy – not a boy! - could work pretty advanced magic if he managed binding spells non-verbally. He knew how the story proceeded. But he still didn't know the most important bit: Who was this Tom? Why was he here? Why wasn't he a weird memory in a diary anymore? It suddenly dawned on Draco what Tom was doing. He strained against the invisible force that held him in place. He had to get up!

“She tried to get rid of the diary,” Tom carried on. His voice was calm. He didn't betray whether it cost him any energy to keep them both locked in position.

“And she tried to flush me down the toilet. In a girl's bathroom as far as I know... I have no clue whatsoever how you ended up in a girl's bathroom, Harry, and I certainly don't care. But I was delighted when I read it was you who had rescued the book from the water. Had rescued me from the water. I showed you things and I thought... I thought I might have found someone worthy of my attention. But the next time somebody opened the diary it was that useless girl again.”

The tip of his toe touched Pansy's head and turned it around so she faced the other way.

“She was all over the place. Feared I might have told you. Feared I might have spilled the beans on how much she loved that George Weasley. She annoyed the hell out of me. But I was getting stronger and I noticed it was time to call her here to finally become real again. To finally step out of the memory and into the present.”

“Why did you want me?” Harry spit out. 

“Can't you guess?” Tom replied.

“You're the heir of Slytherin.”

“Yes I am. But I am not only that. I am the Greatest Wizard in this world...”

“The Greatest Wizard in this world is Professor Dumbledore,” Harry replied.

Draco detected a flinch in Tom's eye. And suddenly it dawned on him. He tried to open his mouth but his lips were sealed. The only reason why Harry could talk was because Tom let him.

“Dumbledore was lucky the last time,” Tom smiled. “He won't be lucky again. I will return with strength and youth and he will just be an old man who is way past his time.”

“Who are you?” Harry shouted and Draco knew from the sound of the boy's voice that Harry had finally come to the right conclusion as well. 

Neither of them were surprised when Tom lifted his wand, drawing letters in the air.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

He swished his wand and the letters rearranged.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

“At least I will be,” Tom said calmly. “As soon as the girl is dead. She's almost there now.”  


Suddenly, a cry broke the silence and all of them looked up – Draco noticed the invisible constraints had vanished – to see a red bird fly through the snake statues, carrying something that looked a lot like...

“The sorting hat?” Tom giggled when the hat landed in front of Draco and Harry. “Seriously? This is the help Dumbledore, your GREAT Dumbledore, sends you to fight me? This is just adorable. And a little bit disappointing.”

Draco had to agree. A bird and the damned hat would be incredibly unhelpful. What was Dumbledore thinking, if he'd truly been the one to send help. Draco wasn't even sure he believed this was Dumbledore's idea, because how the hell should the Headmaster have known his favourite pupil Potter had once again managed to manoeuvre himself into grave peril?

“Before I end this little conversation,” Tom continued in the same calm tone as before, circling Harry now, never even blinking, “I would like to know: Do you have any idea how you managed to get away the last time, Potter? I look at you and you are a perfectly normal child, a mere boy without any great powers. How is it that you could escape me twice and twice almost defeat me?”

Harry lifted his chin and focussed on what was the young version of Lord Voldemort, conserved as a memory in a diary and now come to life by whatever dark magic he used to transfer Pansy's life-energy to himself. Draco had to admit, the boy had some guts.

“You want to know why you can't touch me? Why it will hurt you? It's because my mother loved me. She died trying to save me and gave me a shield. I am not weak, Tom. But you will never understand, because you don't know love.”

Tom laughed. A bitter, cynical laugh.

“Love. A ridiculous invention. Yet powerful. That much I admit. But it just proves again that you, Harry, are nothing but ordinary. And though I may not be able to touch you or harm you, I know something that can!”

His voice went low and turned into a hiss. Harry's face went white. 

“Draco! Shut your eyes. Don't let it look into your eyes! Run!”

Draco saw a movement in the half-opened mouth of the Salazar Slytherin statue. The Basilisk approaching. He quickly closed his eyes. He knew which way to run to get out of the chamber, but he couldn't leave Pansy behind! She needed him.

“Run!” Harry yelled again and Draco's feet just started moving of their own accord. 

He heard the other boy's quick steps in front of him, echoing through the stone hall. Then, there was a screech, an angry non-verbal shout coming from Tom and a cry of agony from the Basilisk.

“He blinded it,” Draco heard Harry panting. “Fawkes just blinded the Basilisk.”

Draco opened his eyes to see the Gryffindor's statement to be true.

“Great,” he said watching the huge beast slither towards them, “that leaves us with no wands and a giant snake with venomous fangs. Still sounds pretty deadly to me.”

Something flew through the air, catapulted towards them by the snakes swaying tail. The sorting hat! Harry caught it and frowned.

“It's heavy,” he said, then lunged into the opening with his hand and – pulled out a sword.

“Merlin,” Draco murmured. “A giant snake with venomous fangs and a long sharp sword. That's an improvement. How did you do that?”

“No idea,” Harry replied.

And the Basilisk struck. The head plunged down so quickly they couldn't even move an inch. Harry let out a scream of terror and Draco just fell to the floor and shut his eyes, awaiting certain death. Instead he heard a wail of agony and then – silence. He opened his eyes again and found a huge snake fang hovering centimetres above his face, a drop of pure green venom forming at the tip of it. He rolled to the side, taking in the scene.

Harry had somehow managed to get the sword between himself and the Basilisk and had rammed it into its mouth and out through the back of its throat. The snake was dead. But the boy had not managed to escape unharmed. One of the fangs protruded from his shoulder and Harry swayed on his feet unsteadily.

“Basilisk venom, deadly,” Draco's brain noted. He cursed and pulled the tooth from Harry's shoulder with an effort.

“Don't you dare die now, Potter. We'll get out of here.”  


“Oh yes, he will die,” Tom stated, slowly walking over to them. He seemed to become more solid every second. Which meant that Pansy was running out of time. “And well deserved. He just killed my pet after all. He will die an ordinary boy who finally ran out of luck.”

“You...” Draco took a step towards the Slytherin, but was stopped in his tracks when Fawkes swept down again, landing on Harry's wounded shoulder. 

Tears started dripping from the bird's eyes.

Tom giggled.

“Even the bird knows this fight is lost. You'll die, Potter. And your little friend here – don't I know your father, boy? What are you even doing here, aiding the enemy of the Dark Lord?”

Draco swallowed.

“I am doing the right thing,” he said and lunged forward towards Tom Riddle's ever more solid form. 

The other boy had not expected a direct attack. He went down and they wrestled. But even though Tom Riddle was just a memory, he was the memory of a much older boy, taller, stronger, and quick. He managed to twist Draco's hand and let him drop the fang to the ground, then almost made him keel over with a well-aimed hit in the stomach.

With a little grunt of effort he had Draco on his back, his knees fixing the blonde boy's shoulders to the ground, the tip of his wand almost touching his forehead.

Tom smiled again.

“I'll tell Lucius, I am sorry... Avada -”

He stopped mid-spell. The wand hovered in the air. The boy shuddered. And then – he disappeared.

Draco turned his head, still a little dizzy, still a little stunned. A second before, he had almost been dead. What had happened?

Harry was cowering on the ground, the Basilisk-fang in his hand which he had used to pierce the diary. There was a huge smoking hole in the book, the venom eating away at the paper and leather-binding.

“You okay?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded, getting up and walking over to him, holding out a hand to help him to his feet.

“How?” he nodded towards the book and the fang that were still clutched in Harry's other hand.

“Fawkes,” Harry explained. “He... I don't know. I think his tears healed the wound. And then I wanted to help you fight Tom and when I had picked up the fang, he picked up the diary and threw it down here so I just... I don't even know how I knew it was the right thing to do.”

He shuddered.

“How's Pansy?”

They both turned towards the girl on the ground. 

“Please, let her be all right,” Draco repeated over and over in his thoughts while he walked over to her.

She stirred. Her hand twitched, then her leg, then she slowly lifted her head and looked up at them, confusion on her face.

“Draco? Harry?”

“Pansy,” Draco smiled with relief and sank down next to her, pulling her into a hug. 

“Let's get her out of here,” Harry suggested. 

Draco nodded. While he supported his oldest friend who was still a little queasy, Harry picked up the sword and the hat on their way.

 

They reached the spot where the avalanche had come down and found the Weasleys had just managed to clear the space enough to squeeze through. George was overjoyed to find Pansy unharmed and Draco gladly let him support her for the rest of the way back. He felt incredibly tired and worn out. But he also felt proud. He had done the right thing in the chamber. Harry's eyes met his for a brief moment and the dark-haired boy nodded. Draco nodded back. They had fought side by side. Did that make them friends now? He wasn't sure. He was not too sure whether his dad would approve should he become friends with Harry Potter. But right at this moment, he didn't care.

“You'll have to tell me everything,” Fred said. 

The twin's wand was directing a befuddled Gilderoy Lockhart – who kept introducing himself to the walls and smiling sheepishly – while his eyes wandered over to his brother George time and again, a worried frown on his forehead. It was very much possible that the Weasley-parents would not approve of Pansy and George being an item. 

“Will do,” said Draco. “But...”

“... let's wait until Hermione is awake,” Fred finished his sentence and nodded. “I am glad this is over.”

 

_A./N._

_I am so incredibly sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. But you know... life. I hope it measures up to expectations though._

_There's only going to be one more chapter after this... and then it's on to Book III. I am excited. I hope, you are as well._

_@FairyRave: Thank you so much for leaving a comment on the last chapter. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story as well._

_@Merkate: Good to see you again and glad you're still reading along._

_@dyslexic_penguin: I think you'll definitely win the "best commenting person" award for your comments on this story. Seriously. Every single time I upload another chapter, I am more or less waiting for the "ping" in my inbox telling me you came along, read and commented again :D_

 


	18. All’s well that ends well

Chapter 18: All’s well that ends well

 

They stumbled into Professor McGonagall’s office in a pretty disorderly way. Lockhart was to blame for that, as he had decided that no, he didn’t want to go in there and Harry took some pleasure in pushing him through the door with a thorough kick in the butt. Draco caught the dark-haired boy’s eye and they both grinned in silent understanding.

“What the…!” exclaimed Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore’s voice in unison when half a dozen students suddenly appeared in her office. Then her eyes widened when she heard Mrs. Parkinson who had been sitting in the visitor’s chair exclaim: “Pansy!”

The woman sprang up and ran towards them, hugging her daughter.

Draco noted a pained expression on George’s face, when Pansy let his hand drop as if it suddenly had turned into burning iron.

“Damned, Pansy,” he thought.

Fred laid a hand on his twin brother’s shoulder and smiled half-heartedly.

Mrs. Parkinson turned to Draco as if there was nobody else in the room.

“You rescued her? But how…?”

Draco shook his head.

“We rescued her,” he corrected. “It was a team effort.”

They took turns telling the whole story. Both Harry and Draco tried to avoid to mention the diary. But it was clear that something was missing from their narration. Dumbledore noticed it as well. Upon his enquiry how Tom Riddle, or Lord Voldemort, had managed to get a hold on Pansy’s mind, they were forced to tell the whole thing. Pansy became very pale faced when asked about why it had been possible for Riddle to draw her in, but she didn’t mention George with any syllable.

“He listened,” she just said. “He listened to all of my worries. He was patient and he was kind and he made me feel better.”

Harry handed the diary to Dumbledore who examined it carefully. The old wizard nodded as if he had just found proof of a theory.

“I think you all deserve some sleep now. And Miss Parkinson should probably spend the night in the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey will look after you, child. And Gilderoy… Minerva would you escort both of them? Oh… by the way. I was told by Professor Sprout that the Mandragoras are grown up now and we will be able to revive all the petrified students tomorrow. I think there should be a feast. There’s much to celebrate.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

“You know what this means?” Draco said as they entered the quiet Ravenclaw common room.

Fred had been grinning the whole way up there.

"I am so looking forward to having the little know-it-all back,” he said. “I really missed her.”

“Seconded,” said Draco, leaning against the back of one of the armchairs.

“What do you think Dumbledore called Harry back for?”

“No idea. He has that father-figure thing going on with him though.”

“I think it’s weird.”

“I think you have a point. Let’s call it a night.”

Right at this moment, there was a popping sound and a small creature with a very prominent nose appeared next to the fire place.

“Draco Malfoy, Sir!” Dobby exclaimed. “I am so happy to see you again.”

Draco sighed. He saw the elf’s posture and shiftyness and knew something wasn’t right.

“What is happening, Dobby?”

“Your… your father is in the castle, sir, throwing a tantrum in the headmaster’s office and yelling that he’s going to take you off the school and have you go Durmstang instead. I am not supposed to leave the Mansion any more, sir, but I thought it was necessary to tell you...”

Before Fred or Draco could react, the tiny elf had gripped two of the hot coals from the fire with his bare hands to punish himself for his disobedience. Draco sighed. Suddenly, an idea appeared in his head.

“Thank you, Dobby, for letting me know. Would you please wait a second?”

He pulled off his shoes, then his socks that looked very disgusting and stained and didn’t smell good. It didn’t matter. He was going to make a point and if the point was smelly, he didn’t care.

He held out the socks to Dobby.

“I know you are not happy in our household, Dobby. And I feel you will get in more trouble soon if you stay in it, because my father and I clearly have – our differences. I think,” he took a deep breath, “I think you should be able to choose your own master and decide for yourself whose orders you want to obey.”

Dobby stared at the socks as if he didn’t believe what was happening.

“C… cl… clothing?” he stammered, “Master is giving me clothing?”

Draco nodded and waved the socks at him impatiently.

“Now take them, before I withdraw my offer.”

Dobby’s face brightened. He snatched the socks from Draco’s hand and pulled one on immediately before examining the other. He frowned.

“Master Malfoy has a truly strange taste in socks,” he declared. “They are exactly the same for both feet.”

Fred laughed.

Dobby looked up and tears were streaming down his face.

“But… where can I live now? Where will be my home?”

Draco shrugged.

“I guess you can become part of the kitchen staff. If you apply today they’ll take you in with open arms, after all they have a feast to prepare for.”

Dobby walked over, his arms outstretched and Draco kneeled down to allow the tiny creature to embrace him.

“Have someone clean the burns on your hands, will you? You don’t have to follow my orders any more, but they might become painful if nobody takes care of them.”

The house elf nodded.

“Thank you, Master,” he said calmly – and vanished with the same popping sound with which he had appeared.

“My dad’s not going to be happy when he finds out about this,” Draco sighed, standing up, shoes in hand.

Fred stared at him with a respectful expression on his face.

“Man. If Hermione had seen that she’d probably have kissed you for this,” he said. “That was – very unlike your family.”

Draco shrugged.

“I am very unlike my family. I was even sorted into a different house. Guess it’s time to face the facts.”

Fred smiled.

“You know that elf will be your faithful servant forever.”

“Yes he will. But because he wants to and not because some weird kind of magic forces him to.”

“Draco, you are full of surprises.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

“They cancelled the exams?”

A shrieking voice, very high-pitched, very furious, almost panicked. Fred still recognized it immediately and almost fell over as he jumped up from the table and over the back of his seat to rush up to her in the aisle between the house tables. Hermione threw herself into his arms and he pulled her into a fierce hug. She was warm and breathing and her hair was everywhere, in his face, in his eyes, in his nostrils. And he loved it. Because she was alive and breathing and very much not petrified any more.

“They cancelled the exams!” she repeated when he finally let her take a step back. “How could they do that?”

“Perhaps because you are the only one for whom this isn’t a relief?” Draco suggested, shoving past Fred and pulling Hermione in a slightly more sophisticated hug.

“It’s good to have you back,” he grinned. “We have lots to tell you.”

They told her the whole story while digging their way through the sheer incredible amounts of food the house elves had prepared in the kitchens. Hermione listened, asked the right questions and was overall impressed by how well they had worked together – even with Harry and Ron involved.

At some point Draco caught Harry’s eye at the Gryffindor table and the dark-haired boy raised his glass of pumpkin juice and smiled.

“Do I detect some kind of – comradeship – between you and Harry?” Luna enquired while examining her fork.

“You don’t face off against a Basilisk and Tom Riddle together without forming some kind of brotherly bond, I guess,” Draco murmured. “And if he didn’t hang around with Ron so much I wouldn’t mind talking to him from time to time.”

Just as he mentioned Ron, the boy appeared at their table. His face was an unhealthy shade of pink-red and he looked as if he was about to keel over.

"Er… er… hello Hermione,” he managed to say. “I… I… am glad you are back and the Mandragoras worked.”

Hermione looked up and smiled at him.

“Well thank you, Ron. And thank you for helping out in the Chamber of Secrets as well. Say hello to Harry from me, will you?”

He trotted off with his head even redder than before.

Fred sighed and lifted his glass.

“Here’s to my little brother being a fine and well-versed gentleman.”

That was when an owl landed head-first in the huge pudding that was sitting on a tray in front of them. Draco fished the poor bird out and extracted the letter from its claw.

“Mum,” he explained when he had recognized the writing and tore open the envelope. He skimmed the contents and sighed. “Dad’s no longer school governor. Even some of his old friends voted against him. Well I can hardly say I am surprised. She isn’t surprised either, wants me to say “hi” to both of you and is looking forward to seeing me again soon. Something about a pleasant surprise… well I hope she’s not planning my wedding or something similarly terrible.”

He put the letter down.

“Your mum seems okay,” stated Luna.

Draco smiled.

“She’s all right I guess.”

 

THE END

 

_A./N.: In the last couple of weeks, this story (like part I as well as part II) has received quite a huge amount of traffic and I am very happy that new readers find their way here all the time. I want to thank all of you again for reading along and those who commented: You don't know how amazing it is to hear your thoughts and just know that you are there. Especially with me being so slow with updating because real life keeps getting in the way of everything I love, I appreciate that you patiently (or impatiently) waited for the next installment and haven't just quit this story entirely. To the regulars (you know who you are!) I raise a special glass of fire whiskey. I hope you stay on this train for the rest of the journey as well. I would miss you, if you were gone. And yes, Book III is going to happen and this leads me to my final thanks. They go out to Liz who started beta-ing for me more than a year ago. What started off as a purely professional exchange of e-mails has now become much more than that and I guess I am not lying when I say she's become a good friend albeit a friend who lives far too far away. Liz confirmed she's going to beta the next book as well and I am very thankful for that! You rock, girl!_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go out to Liz, who volunteered to be my beta for the second book and check for my horrendous punctuation as well as for anything that might be "un-English". As you probably guessed, the pairings are more of an outlook than anything else (because: good grief, they are still so very young in this). But I thought I'd warn you just in case you have an allergy against Fremione or Dramione. There will be side pairings as well (one of them should be pretty obvious from Book I already, the other one will surface throughout this one) but the main focus will always be on the plot. For me, it's pretty cool to twist the story my way while trying to stay as close to the originals as possible. Finally: I love seeing the hits on a story, I adore seeing that people left kudos and I actually dance for joy for every single comment I get. I guess that a lot of people don't know how awesome you feel as a writer when someone tells you, they liked what you did with a character or they laughed out loud at some point of the story or anything along these lines. It's our fuel and our happiness.


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